[Barb]

Growing up the only way I knew Sis. Freeman was through a dear lady in our church, Sis. Mary Chabun.

Every Sunday without fail, Sis. Chabun and my grandmother would walk down the dirt road from our church to the home of another elderly lady. There they would prepare what seemed like a mountain of mashed potatoes, fried chicken, green beans and/or some other veggie, homemade biscuits...and could they ever cook.

Anyway, some Sundays I would stay with them, and after cleaning the kitchen, they would either nap, read, or in Sis. Chabun's case, write a letter to the Freemans.

Sis. Chabun was retired from Buick and didn't have much to give in finances to the mission field, but that didn't stop her. She will never know what an impression that made on a child, but it is a memory that will last forever.

Many years later I sent Sis. Freeman one of the books I had written, and she in turn sent me the sweetest letter of encouragement. That someone with her schedule and ministry would take the time for me meant more than these few words can express.