General Superintendent Max Edwards & Judy
October 22, 2024 A Tribute to My Mother Ten days ago, my mom, Rosemond Ilee (eye-lee) Edwards would have turned 106. She was born to Leroy and Lola Baty in central Iowa, near a small town called Newton, which is my hometown as well. Her parents were God-fearing folk who taught her the cardinal truths of Scripture from an early age. Rosemond was a devoted disciple of Christ, who served God and served people with a selflessness that awes me when I think of it to this day. She would rather have gone hungry than to see others trapped in need, going without basic necessities. Time and again I remember her taking food, clothes, and other supplies to the poor and lonely. She married my dad, Wilbur Eugene Edwards in September of 1937. They had 7 wonderful children by 1958, but in fact, there was one more straggler to come along, and I was born in September of 1959. My parents were pillars at the Full Gospel Church of Newton, Iowa. And without fail, I was there every Sunday since the time I was 6 days old. Rosemond lovingly taught me that God loved me, and that He desired that I would spend eternity with Him. I had just turned 16 years old in late September of 1975. I was a Sophomore on my high school debate team, and on the morning of October 18th, I was at our home working on my debate materials. Rosemond and my brother Brian had departed for town to pick up some supplies. I never saw her alive again. As a pedestrian walking the sidewalk on the town square, she was struck by a work truck and pinned to the wall of a bank on the corner. I know that angels ushered her quickly into the presence of the Lord. Her favorite hymn was “In the Garden.” As a tribute to Rosemond who went to be with the Lord 49 years ago to the day on Friday, October 18th, I have written a poem for her. She loved poetry, and I have felt at times a bit blessed by her giftedness:
Rosemond She was a rose in the garden, beautiful and fair, and did enjoy such sweet communion with her savior there. The joys they shared as she tarried, were life up to the brim, and bent in humble obedience, she led many others to Him. I was one, touched by her beauty, although I came quite late, on a thin and twisted branch, my bud the last of eight. In tender years, I took for granted the godliness she shared, it wasn’t until she had been taken that I would choose to care. October eighteenth, seventy-five, the day God had prepared, for Rosemond Ilee Edwards, my mom, to grace His garden there. I’ll never forget her fragrant life, so selfless, loving, and sweet. I can only hope in some small way, her aroma to repeat. Max Edwards, October 18, 2024