Over My Shoulder

Chapter 19—The Curtain Falls

Life was pleasant in our own home in Pratt Valley, only a couple of hundred yards from Grandma’s comfortable Elmshaven residence. It was a pleasure to go into our strawberry patch while the dew was still sparkling on the grass and leaves and pick a panful for breakfast, stopping now and then to pop a particularly luscious jewel into my mouth. OMS 122.1

Adjoining the berries and safely secured behind a stout fence, we planted alfalfa. How our Jersey cow enjoyed feeding there! Each morning and evening Dores would bring in a foaming pail of milk so rich it was almost golden yellow. Since we had been warned of the danger of bloating that threatened cows permitted to eat wet alfalfa, we carefully kept Bossy in her stall until the sun had dried all the moisture on the field. But one morning she managed to sneak into the patch, and by the time my husband went to milk her, she had gorged herself on the tempting green food. OMS 122.2

We knew at once that we were in trouble. Even as we watched, we could see her sides swelling and soon she was bellowing in agony. It was hard for her to stand, yet she could not lie down. Dores remembered that a friend had once told him that a quick cure for bloating was a dose of kerosene. We simply couldn’t afford to lose our only cow; she represented far too large an investment. OMS 122.3

Into a tin can we poured a pint of kerosene. Then while Dores held her head and managed to open her mouth, I poured the oil down her throat. OMS 122.4

The result was astonishing. Within fifteen minutes the cow that had looked like a gas balloon bore much more the appearance of a clothes rack, with every rib showing. Bossy was saved, but we couldn’t drink her milk for many days. I think we might have burned it in the lantern, it was so impregnated with kerosene. We later learned that a tablespoon would have been ample. But at least we had saved our cow. OMS 122.5

While traveling from house to house with Babe and the buggy in the rough mining towns of California, I had often been impressed by the thought that after delivering my orders, I would probably never see those people again. Sometimes I would carry a stack of Signs of the Times with me and leave one at each house. But I often wished I had something I could leave that would last longer than the papers. I could not afford to give the larger books away, but the thought came to me that one of the Adventist publishing houses might be willing to print a book carrying a timely message that would take the light into the homes of my customers and to hundreds of thousands of other isolated families. OMS 123.1

This desire became so strong that in the fall of 1914 I wrote to Elder Palmer, manager of the Review and Herald Publishing Association. Ever since Mabel and I had traveled from California to Australia in the care of Elder and Mrs. Palmer we had regarded them as special friends, and I felt free to contact him now. OMS 123.2

World War I had broken out only a few months previously. Men and women everywhere were thinking more seriously than ever before about world events. Would it be possible, I asked Elder Palmer, for the Review and Herald Publishing House to print a 100-page paperback book dealing with the current world crisis and selling for not more than twenty-five cents? OMS 123.3

Although I had hoped that the idea would receive favorable consideration, I was unprepared for Elder Palmer’s enthusiastic reply. He had shared my letter with the book editor, and together they had decided that here was a workable idea. They next blocked out ten topics to which they gave chapter titles. Since it would take too long for one person to write the book, they allocated different chapters to writers of ability on the staffs of the Review and Herald and the General Conference. OMS 123.4

The work was going forward rapidly, Elder Palmer assured me, and the book would be out by Christmas. Delighted with the prospect of having something to take to my customers, I promptly ordered two hundred copies. Early in December I found the following announcement on the back page of the Review: The World’s Crisis In the Light of Prophecy (Ready December 15) The following is the outline of subjects: OMS 123.5

“Light for Our Time in the Prophetic Word.”
“The European Conflict: Is It Armageddon?”
“Approaching Armageddon.”
“Turkey and the War.” ...
“Christ’s Second Coming.” ...
“The Home of the Saved.” OMS 124.1

This book will contain about 128 pages, with paper covers in two colors.... Price, 25 cents. One hundred copies by freight, $12.50. On an order of 200 copies the freight will be paid. OMS 124.2

A hundred thousand copies should be sold this winter. OMS 124.3

Thus was born the plan whereby millions of copies of inexpensive World Crisis Books would be scattered throughout the world. OMS 124.4

The year 1915 came, a year that would bring great changes in our lives. February found Virgil, Mabel, and me in Grass Valley. A friend took the children back to St. Helena while I remained to complete my selling. OMS 124.5

On May 281 arrived in St. Helena on the morning train. Dores met me and we drove home, both happy to know that my trip was ended. That afternoon I disposed of my prospectus and the aluminum-ware sample case, feeling that I should never need them again. I never had further use for the sample case, but years later, in South Africa, I had the joy of selling many hundreds of copies of The Great Controversy, The Hope of the World, and Our Day in the Light of Prophecy. At heart, it seemed, I would always be a colporteur! OMS 124.6

On February 13, Grandma, now 87, had tripped and fallen heavily while going to her room. Cousin May Walling, her nurse, had rushed to help her but found that any movement caused severe pain. A doctor was called, and after a brief examination she was taken to the sanitarium, where an X-ray revealed a fractured femur. There was no treatment for this type of injury in those days, so Grandma was returned to Elmshaven, where she was confined to her bed. Fortunately, she did not have to endure much suffering, but what pain she had was borne without a murmur. OMS 124.7

Friends from near and far came to see her. Soon after her accident, she expressed the opinion that she felt her lifework was done. She did not anticipate being able to work again. Yet her faith, hope, and confidence seemed to grow stronger as the days passed. OMS 125.1

The work at the Elmshaven office continued. It had been three or four years since Dores, on his morning walk to the office, had stopped at Grandma’s room to collect the ten, fifteen, or twenty pages of handwritten material to be taken to the office and typed out. But the work of book preparation continued as her staff brought her materials together for such books as The Acts of the Apostles, Prophets and Kings, Counsels to Parents and Teachers, and Gospel Workers. Grandma participated in this, reading chapters, writing in corrections, and adding some new material. OMS 125.2

Ever since Grandma first met Dores in Australia she had taken a keen interest in him and his career. While she prized his literary work in her office, she was also eager for him to engage in public ministry. She rejoiced when he took an active part in pastoring the St. Helena and Calistoga churches and in conducting Sabbath afternoon services for the disabled and retired soldiers in the Yountville Veterans Home. She had heartily approved of his ordination in 1910. Now she felt the time had come for him to labor in some community where there was no Seventh-day Adventist church. OMS 125.3

With grandmother’s illness, work at the office was carried on at a slower pace, so Dores wrote to the president of the California Conference offering his services. As a result, it was arranged for us to go to Willits and cooperate with Elder Andrew Nelson in holding a tent effort, with the youthful C. Lester Bond as song leader and tentmaster. OMS 125.4

On the last day of June, 1915, Dores and I and our children slipped into Grandma’s room to bid her goodbye. Somehow we knew, and she knew also, that this would be the last time we would see her alive, and we cried a bit together. She blessed her great-grandchildren and we had prayer; then we walked quietly down the stairs and out to the carriage waiting to take us to the station, where we boarded the train. OMS 125.5

Upon our arrival in Willits Elder Nelson met us and took us two blocks to the lot where the big tent had been pitched. At first we wondered whether there would be room for another family tent, but in the end we managed it, and our three families settled down. OMS 125.6

As the days passed, the meetings at the tent continued to draw a fair number of people. For me the most important moment of the day came when the postman walked up to our tent and handed us the morning mail. Nearly every day there was a letter from Father, telling of Grandma’s gradually weakening condition. Also, every week we eagerly scanned the back pages of the Review for the note Father had written concerning Grandma’s condition When we read the words “What a strange world this will be for me when Mother is gone,” there were a few moments of tears. Ever since the death of his father, James White, Papa had been Grandma’s constant companion and helper. OMS 126.1

When church members everywhere read Elder White’s report of his mother’s condition in the Review and Herald, they realized that she would not live much longer: OMS 126.2

“The following, dated at Sanitarium, Cal., July 2, will be of interest to all our readers: ‘There has been no decided change in mother’s condition during the past two weeks. She gradually grows weaker, and for five or six days has seldom spoken above a whisper. Today she said to me that she was thankful that the Lord continues His mercies; and a little later, in broken sentences, she expressed her confidence and trust. After I had prayed with her, and spoken of the glad day when Christ will make all things new and we shall meet our dear ones around His throne, she expressed her hope that the time would not be long. Last Sunday morning she was feeling a little better than for several days, and Elder and Mrs. G. B. Starr came in to bid her good-by. When they expressed pleasure at finding her so bright, she said: “I am glad you find me thus. I have not had many mournful days. The Lord has arranged and led in all these things for me, and I am trusting Him. He knows when it will end.” At times, she expresses a desire to rest, and seems to feel that the day of rest is near at hand.’”—W. C. White, The Review and Herald, July 15, 1915. OMS 126.3

The next day Ellen White died. OMS 126.4

On Friday afternoon, July 16, as we were preparing the tent for Sabbath, a Western Union telegraph boy rode up on his bicycle and handed Dores the telegram we had been expecting. With trembling hands he tore open the envelope and read Father’s brief message: “Mother fell asleep at 3:40 today. Funeral Sunday.” OMS 126.5

The next morning we boarded the train for St. Helena. Father was there to meet us with the carriage, and we drove to the house that had been our home for four happy years. OMS 127.1

On that Sunday afternoon, crowds of people came to the funeral service, which was held on the lawn in front of Elmshaven. Elders J. N. Loughborough, G. B. Starr, and Eugene Farnsworth, pioneer workers with whom Grandmother had been associated for many years, were there to take part in the service. OMS 127.2

Monday we went by train to Oakland, where a second funeral was held at the California Conference camp meeting in nearby Richmond. Elders E. E. Andross and E. W. Farnsworth led out. The family occupied seats in the front row, where we could watch hundreds of grieving friends file past the casket. When they had left, we too gathered for one last look at the calm, peaceful face of one whom we had loved so dearly. OMS 127.3

We then drove to the railway station, where we said goodbye to Father and Sara McEnterfer as they boarded a train that would carry them, and Grandma, back to Battle Creek. After a third funeral in the Tabernacle, she was laid to rest by the side of her husband, two sons, and other family members in Oak Hill Cemetery. OMS 127.4

Grandma’s passing marked the end of an era for us. Standing there on the platform in Richmond station, we could not help wondering what the future might hold. Tomorrow we would return to Willits and continue our meetings at the tent until the evangelistic effort should close. But what lay beyond that? OMS 127.5

Could we have drawn the curtain aside, we would have seen us move to Colorado the following spring, followed by two years of preaching and teaching in that field. There followed a term in Nashville, where Dores joined the editorial staff of the Southern Publishing Association. In 1920 our family sailed across the Atlantic to do mission work in Africa. There, in Capetown, our third child, Gladys, was born. Some seven years later, back in the United States Dores was invited to join the White Publications office, working there and in Washington for twenty-four years, until his retirement. OMS 127.6

Little did I know that, like Grandma, I too would lose my companion and have to walk alone after fifty-two years of most rewarding companionship. OMS 127.7

Soon, very soon, the heavens will part and the Saviour will come. God’s sleeping saints shall hear His voice calling them to life. Graves in every land scattered over this wide world will open. The ocean depths will give forth their treasure, and “many shall come from the east and west, and shall sit down ... in the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 8:11). OMS 128.1

Loved ones parted amid heartache and tears shall meet and “never, never part again.” OMS 128.2

Ella May Robinson lived for ninety-five and one-half years, dying in 1977. ¹¹ It was in her eighty-ninth year that she typed out this manuscript. Her last letter was to her children—Virgil in Africa; Gladys, the youngest, in Iran; and Mabel, living nearby. We feel certain that Ella would wish to include in this her last message everyone who has read this book. She wrote: OMS 128.3

“It looks as if I shall not last many days longer. I think I am nearing the end. Oh, I have so much to praise the Lord for. How can we realize how blest we are in being able to work for Him to the end of life? We may stumble when the path is rough, but let it never discourage us. OMS 128.4

“The darker the night, the closer we press to His side. The rougher the path, the firmer we hold His hand, and we press on, singing as we journey. We see the glory streaming down the golden streets through the open gates and we raise a richer song of praise. OMS 128.5

“Meet you just over the hills in the land where joy shall be forever, Mother.” OMS 128.6