The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1920-01-08
MRS. WILLIAM
F. KERNKAMP

died peacefully IN the 1altn at ner ldIe
home on the farm at 1920 p. M, Mon
day, Dec. 10th, 1919, aged SIS years, 8
months, 26 days, having been born at
Woodbury., Minnesota, April 3rd, 1864.
She was the daughter Of Mr. and
Mrs. August Heidel, and was the
fourth child in a family of six chill
dren of whom there were four daugh-
tiers, and two sons, and of these, she
is survived by two sisters and one
brother, Mrs. George Bach, St. Pau,
and Mrs. Albert Kernkamp Of Waseca,
Minnesota, and Fred w. Heidel Of VAL
ley City.
She was united in marriage to Will
liam F. Kernkamp July 6, 1882, COM
ing to Valley City, N. D., the same
summer, here they have since lived
prosperously and happy on the farm
near this city for the intervening 81
years. She is survived by her hus-
band, one daughter, Mrs. Ed. Barry,
and three sons, Roy, Ralph, and Allan
Kernkamp.
The church record shows that she
and her husband were received into
full membership of the Methodist
Episcopal Church of Valley City,
March 9Th, 1892, by the pastor, Rev.
A. c.. Routzham, and also that they
were among the charter members, Mr.
Kernkamp being one Of the original
trustees. Truly, the church is be-
reaved today in the going of one who
for so many years has been identified
with it. She was one for whose life
we do not have to apologize. Without
knowing her as we'll as some before
me, can we'll believe that she had it
in her heart to do more than her body
would permit her to do. Thank God
that when our hands are disqualified
for active service, the Lard looks up
on the heart and judges not by what
we do, but by what we would do, and
of many another beside Mary of old,
he could truthfully say: "She hath
done what she could" l think of Mrs.
Kernkamp as a woman of large heart,
but not large enough to hold the
memory of a grudge. l think of her
as one whose conscience was her guide
and think of her as true help-meet,
a wise counsellor, a loving compan-
ion, whose heart beat in unison with
that of her husbands in all his joys
and griefs, and in all the noble pur
poses of their life together. l think
Of her as the radiant center of beau
tiful family affection, who loved her
home more than glittering fashion,
and sought honor in the consciousness
Of doing good.
Amid the Affections, trials and SUI
fering years, l think of her as having
lived with her eyes on the Invisible,
having experienced the efficacy Of
prayer l remember our first visit to
her home. 1t was one of those days
when she was greatly oppressed by
the heat and her affliction, and it was
clearly evident that she was trying to
keep herself from being a burden to
anv other member of the home by per-
forming any work her hands could do
Her sense of appreciation was also re-
vealed in the remark she made to my
wife: "Oh, Mr.. Kernkamp is so good
to me-" And / am sure l voice the
feeling today of every member OF the
family if I should put into the mouth
Of each of you her words: "Oh, she
was so good to us ALL
There is one more incident OF that
first visit 1 would relate. It was dur
ing the darkest days of the terrible
war, and one Of her sons was then at
the front. She was brave as one could
expect a mother to be in the face OF
the dread possibilities. Then, IN a
spirit of resignation to her Fathers
will, l remember her saying: 81 nev-
er expect to see my boy again IN TINS
world. Either he will not come back,
or, if he does, I hardly expect to De
here to greet him." What consoia-
ton and what source of thanksglv-
ing that God heard her prayers for
his return, and that she lived to plant
the kiss of affection upon his cheeks
again.
AS l left her side that day, | went
awav with the greatest picture OF the
unselfish devotion and undying love OF
motherhood that ever stood out III my
imagination. -
I said: "This is our hope, this is the
victory that shall overcome the enc
mics of their soul, and Of their coull-
try. outside the name of Jesus there
is no more given to mortals like thac
of "nother" whose magic evokes the
best that is in man, and will draw
hearts from the ends of the earta.
There is one form sacred in memory's
gallery-one face which time can
never efface. 1t is that of mother. the
dear, gentle. compassionate mother,
who loved us ere we knew what love
was, ard taught US the right ere we !
knew the wrong. How unfortunate
those who do not remember the voice !
that sang them to sleep in the lnno-
cence of childhood, and awoke them
with loving kisses on the bright morn |
ing Of long ago-who watched us to
school in the summer sun, and taugh !
US our lessons by the wintry tiresldee' |
From childhood's morn to manhooG,s
hour she was ever at hand to soothe
and console. With cheers for the rlght
and tears for the wrong, she was
happy in our joys, sad in our sorrows,
and she washed away our errors IN
the flooded rivulets of her forglvlng
soul. And when at last we must go
forth from the old hime and fireslde' !
how tenderly and affectionately she
caressed us, and kissed us cool bye, |
and then waited and hoped and prayed
that all would be we'll. !
Thousands Of men born OF gooo