Elmenia
Rebecca
Williams
“Ma Mena”

The Quintessential Matriarch - Elmenia Rebecca Williams was born in the quiet settlement of Blue Hills to Joseph and Francis Williams on April 2^nd, 1908. There she met, and would eventually marry James Williams. Their union produced six children; one girl and five boys. James died in 1946 leaving 6 children for Ma Mena to raise with the eldest being 12 years old and the youngest, 2 years old. God, Family and Church were everything to her. She loved her family.... From “Brother” (Uncle James), commander and chief; to “Percy B” ( B for baby for life); “Sissy” (Inez, the eldest child and her princess ). Chris was her child and friend, Charlie did not grow up with her as a child but there was always a longing in her heart for him. When he finally returned home from Nassau, Bahamas; although being a mature adult, she took him in as the baby she never knew. Earl was her apron string, and we knew it. Wisely, she loved them all equally, but differently. Her granddaughter Marva also shared the joys of having her as mother/grandmother for a short while, along with three of her other grand children, namely, Everette, Elaine, and Chris, who she reared as her own children.

Her Personal/Work Life: straw work, field work, sisal

Her Family Life

She played an active role in assisting with raising some of her grandchildren. She did not live long enough to meet most of her great grandchildren, but her memory and impact will forever influence the way we live our lives and teach our children. We miss hearing her prayers.....

Story telling, walking tours, field trips, family visits, the beach hikes, harvesting crops and enjoying meal creatively prepared in minutes are all some of the pastimes we enjoyed with her.

....Her Ministry and Church Life

She was a disciple/ missionary of her day and never missed an opportunity to talk about her God.... if you visited her on the steps of her little house on the hill long enough to hear the context of her testimony of what she was delivered from, you would appreciate her story, and what drove her to share God’s love with others. She welcomed each new year with a prayer.

The fervor with which she would enter the new year praying would provoke conviction and deep reflection. This was the central theme of new year’s morning— prayers.

Ma Mena, as she was affectionately called by all, traded life for eternity at the age of 81 on 7 July 1989. The similarity of my experience being with my Ma Mena somehow reminded me of what my Aunty would sometimes do with me and my siblings when the time and weather permitted, such as a trip to the rocky shore beach of Jones Town and spending the day harvesting fruits from the yard or just enjoying the “fellowship’ of family. Rehashing old stories of the past and celebrating individuals’ successes of the then present.

We celebrated, inspired a rerun of choir singing, poems recited, plays acted out, that was intentionally organize by Aunty (that is all she was ever called by my siblings and I, as she was the only sister of our dad, there was no other Aunty she could be confused or compared with— Inez was her name). She stood tall in the shadow of her mom who I loved and received unconditional love from.... I digressed....

She would begin her day early (earlier than the birds, it would seem), always with a winsome attitude and gratitude to God for another day of life, until she was incapacitated, then she was anxious to go to heaven and be rid of the pain and suffering experienced. She thought that caring for her was a burden, but this was really the only time that she ever conceded and accepted care from anyone. Even if she was in pain, one would never know it. She would tie up her back, or leg, and body part that was aching and use a strong branch of a tree as a walking stick and get done whatever she needed to do before anyone could be present to protest. Gratitude oozed from her very being. One time she was doing what she needed to do (while experiencing the wear and tear of her body) and fell over into the fire she had been tending to.... She managed to escape without life threatening damage/injuries. This invoked a praise and worship session while in the fire and on the ground.... “Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Jesus!” was her victory song that day, To this day that is my “go to” praise chant. Talk about praise your way out of a fiery situation. This was her lifestyle....

I remember that crossing your legs in church was not allowed. If you were a male, wearing your hat in the church building was not allowed. Oddly, contrary to today’s giving ...what was always allowed to go to church was one dollars bills, but only the newest and prettiest was reserved to take to church –that was her conviction, her best was for God. One dollar notes allowed her to share the generosity of her giving with others who had less than she did and at other times, at the church program/concerts as they encouraged fund raising, by showing your support in collecting an offering after each person/child did his or her recital or song. I remember seeing love in action many times, but particularly noteworthy, she would walk to Town from Blue Hills early on Saturday mornings to do her shopping. She needed very little, but this was her custom after she did her Saturday morning chores. Sometimes I had the pleasure to accompany her and we would just “enjoy” the trek on the rough path until a road user with a vehicle stopped to give us a ride to Town (sometimes the case) if the journey was timed correctly, as there were very few vehicles on the street in Provo.