The home-going of Sister Goddard



I feel that I would be leaving out an interesting event should I fail to record the home-going of dear Sister Goddard, Sister Shelton's mother, who took her departure from this troublesome world to be in a better one on Wednesday, January 19, 1921, at 11:50 a. m. She had been sick but a short time. On January 15, Saturday, I went down; and after others had prayed for her, I prayed and got blessed and, without much consideration, I claimed her healing. But on Sunday, as I spent all forenoon in prayer relative to her case, I did not make any headway, though I did my best. She seemed to be getting worse. As Monday was my wash day, I did not get down until evening. I prayed silently, but could not make the headway I wanted. I began searching myself to see what was lacking. I went home, did my ironing, and went back in the evening again, only to be held in the dark as to her healing. On my way home I told Brother Thomas that I feared she was going Home, and that we would not have her long with us. I retired, but did not sleep till towards morning. I dreaded the thought of her leaving us, as we all needed her, we all thought, oh, so much.

Wednesday morning, I returned, and slipped into a corner. She lay silently on the bed, noticing no one; and several were in the room, ministering to her needs. A holy hush pervaded the room, oh, such a sweet and holy quietness! I made no headway in praying for her healing, and was soon hurried off on another line. All I could do was to petition for her an abundance entrance. I remained in that corner ninety minutes. As I lay on my face, pleading for an abundant entrance, I saw a large, beautiful mansion which looked as if it were glass -- so transparent, so lovely to behold. I had never seen such a radiant building -- such glittering walls, such dazzling floors, such brilliant rooms; and it was so beautiful outside, too. I saw beings dressed in spotless white garments extending to the floor, and, oh, such faces, such hands, such crowns, and everyone was busy, not one standing still or sitting. They were carrying wreaths of lily-white flowers of such brilliance as I had never seen. They were hurrying in and out as though putting on the last touches. Each one had wings and, oh, so beautiful, but all their wings were folded. All were, oh, so busy getting ready for the soon home-coming of someone. So I just concluded that they were Sister Goddard's ushers. I suppose that orders had been given, and mention of her soon coming had been made. I got up, and said to myself, "She will not be here long." Sister Shelton said to me, "What did you get?" I said, "Mother will soon be leaving you." I went home and told some of the students that sister Goddard would soon leave us. It was 11:00 a. m., when I got to my room, so at 11:40 the last touch had been put on. All was ready for her home-coming, and the summons was sent for her to vacate the old rickety tenement that she had occupied for many years, and come up and occupy the brilliant, massive mansion for which she had been sending up material for a number of years.