Mildred Ruth Sherwood

A blessed life ended in time this week, but continues without end in eternity. Our dear mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, relative, and friend Ruth Sherwood took the hand of her Savior and at last entered into His joy. “Well done,” she heard as she was ushered into his glorious presence. “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

And so all Ruth’s pain ended in an instant, every tear wiped away, and a wonderful new existence started in a never-fading reality. She rarely spoke of her pain, but it was ever present as her years drew to a close. It was the emotional pain that occurred with increasing frequency as her faithful husband Paul, her beloved sister Mimi, dear friends, and relatives passed on before her. It was the physical pain, at times excruciating, that resulted from an utterly decimated lower back marked by multiple fractures and pinched nerves. And yet she never seemed to want to talk about it. “Don’t ask me about my pain,” she once said, “just tell me about your day.”

And always the smile—the happy welcoming smile that said, “I love you” without a word. People knew they were loved by Ruth from the moment they met her or saw her, and so they confided in her, told her their troubles and their stories, coveted her prayers, and loved her in return. Those relationships—going back 90 years to her childhood in Elkridge—were to her like precious jewels arrayed in her mind, and joyfully brought out to be displayed again and again. She found something to love in everyone—and she did. We often chuckled that even in the hospital—the hospital!—she immediately struck up conversations, and by the time the elevator got to the third floor, she knew a good part of the life history of the person pushing her bed.

And whether it was those brief encounters (“I think she may have been a believer!”), or in the lasting friendships Ruth so cared for and nurtured, she was speaking the language of her Savior and of his Kingdom. Of course, she probably wouldn’t see it that way, but by any measure she spoke the King’s language in her relationships. It was a language of love, of acceptance, of empathy, and of kindness, with never a hint of cynicism or judgment. And hardly ever, you will probably remember, about herself. And even then her conversation was about family, or friends, or happy events that were a blessing to her. And quickly she turned it around, and you soon found yourself once again talking about what was important to you.

Each of those encounters, each of those dear friendships were among the storehouse of treasure that awaited Ruth when she entered her Savior’s kingdom. All sent ahead, all glittering crowns—from the briefest kind word to a nameless person to the closest friendship. They were all perhaps gathered up in the infinite mind of the Savior, and rewarded as only He can so sweetly do.

To many beyond her immediate family, Ruth was sister, mother or grandmother, understanding each person’s deep needs, and being single-minded in her focus to meet those needs. Birthdays and anniversaries were faithfully marked by a card or a call. Newspaper clippings or references on the internet to someone’s area of interest were always at the ready. And if someone commented about pursuing something more deeply, Ruth was there with enthusiastic encouragement, sometimes even offering tangible support for a course or a class to further that interest.

Ruth was no doubt always Ruthie—you’d recognize her personality immediately if you knew her when she was 8 or 10 or 20 or 40. But all the things that made her so deeply special to so many people were in some measure the result of trials and difficulties and disappointments—in many areas of life, rarely spoken about, but very real. Perhaps one of the reasons she always wanted everyone to be “okay” (“Be careful driving home”) was because she sometimes found herself not okay in life’s circumstances. But rather than let those challenging experiences discourage or embitter her, by God’s grace she always found a way to rise above, and look for the rainbow behind the clouds. And so she wanted a happy ending for everyone. Her favorite movie was The Wizard of Oz—it is the ultimate happy ending movie, and in Ruth’s mind the happiest endings always happen when you get back home.

Ruth’s sense of humor was easygoing and never barbed. The twinkle in her eye was the giveaway that she had something up her sleeve. As she lay in bed several days before her passing, the heavy medication made it nearly impossible for her to form a thought into a complete sentence. We listened intently each time she tried to speak, hoping to understand what she was trying to say. As my sister leaned down once in response to Ruthie’s gesture, my mother waited until she was close, looked her straight in the eye and said, “Boo!” . . . And again that twinkle.

And in those sweet final days, she loved and encouraged us, once looking at Pam, then Nancy, then me, and saying, “You’re good” to each of us in turn. “You’re good.” “You’re good.” “You’re good.” We’d been saying that to her, to reassure her that she didn’t need to worry about us—“We’ll be good, we’ll be fine.” But when she said it to us, it meant so much more.

She loved people, but Ruth also stood in awe of creation. Weather fascinated her, especially when it “did something”—dramatic clouds, a freak snowstorm, a fiery sunset, or the claps of thunder that would roll down the Patapsco Valley on sultry summer evenings. She once roused us from our warm sleeping bags on a Minnesota camping vacation so we could experience the Northern Lights. My seven-year-old mind quickly lost those images, but even now I find myself longing to once again travel north in winter, driven no doubt in part by the imprint that remains of the dancing green flames of my childhood.

She was overjoyed recently when Nancy and I showed her a photo from our phone after we returned from a walk in Patapsco Park. We had sheltered under the Thomas Viaduct as a shower passed, and as we turned the corner onto Levering Avenue, a magnificent rainbow had formed in the eastern sky. We stared in amazement at the brilliance of the rainbow, and that one end of it appeared to be anchored on Mom’s house. In retrospect we now perhaps see more clearly: the symbol of God’s promise, the glory of His creation, touching down on the home of a precious child he was about to call home.

Ruth worked hard to make memories for Pam and me—simple walks in the park to wade in a stream or spot minnows in a sunny pool; tent camping at Point Lookout in southern Maryland and catching fiddler crabs on the tidal flats; car trips to West Virginia to visit a friend’s hunting camp. Family together was precious to her, and the house she called home for more than fifty years was always a gathering spot for family and friends. For several years, when the family dispersed and grew beyond easily hosting at Levering Avenue, she rented rustic cabins for us at a Pennsylvania campground. It was the perfect combination—her family enjoying the beauty of nature and the comfort of their own space, yet close enough to gather for a campfire or a hike to the river. Simple pleasures all, deeply enjoyed and cherished for the memories they provided.

These were also small expressions of one of Mom’s greatest life impulses—always be on the lookout for adventure. Adventures on a budget required imagination and enthusiasm, each of which Ruth had in abundance. So she always found a way to get us to the beach, or the mountains, or on a crazy two-week driving vacation to the Great Lakes, ostensibly for my father as a trip down memory lane to the naval training center where he learned to be a sailor in WWII. But along the way she packed in more stops and experiences than now seem possible. And when she and Paul retired, they took their dream vacation—by train of course—to the West. They enjoyed the unique and awe-inspiring natural beauty of that region, and made fast friends with many other train buffs as they rode historic railways behind chuffing steam engines.

Ruth’s spirit was indomitable to the last. One of her favorite expressions was “Don’t tell me it can’t be done.” For years she was the driving force of the Elkridge Heritage Society, faithfully boosting the many charms of her beloved hometown. She somehow got the rights to a now-forgotten national holiday, “Swap a Brown Bag Lunch Day” (a not-surprising idea from our original social network mother), and she encouraged Paul to start the Serendipity Cellar furniture store and later his Duckworks flower business. She was cheerleader, idea factory, unpaid employee, and lunch provider for anything she or our family could think up.

Ruth’s job at Elkridge Elementary School was the source of endless anecdotes, happy memories and lifetime friendships. It was the perfect job for her, combining energetic children, smart, engaging friends, and connections to the community that lasted as long as she did. When we took her to Green Valley grocery before she became unable to go out, we would inevitably bump into a friend or relative. Even when she could no longer join us, whenever we returned from Green Valley, or from a walk in the park, she would always ask, “See anybody you knew?”

Ruthie was a dear child of God—a true trophy of His grace who in love touched the lives of countless people. Many hearts are heavy today with her passing, but we rejoice, knowing that she is at last safe home. “I just want to go home,” she said again and again over the past few months. She longed for the happy ending that was promised to her by the faithful Savior she loved and served throughout her life. She has now returned to Him with songs of joy; her mourning has turned to dancing, and the eternal happiness she hoped for is now gloriously realized.

Ruthie was the beloved wife of the late Paul Edward Sherwood and the devoted mother of Pam Storm (Thomas) and Clint Sherwood (Nancy); dear sister of the late Miriam "Mimi" Grabowski; cherished grandmother of Austin Storm (Laura), Emily Risner (Jacob), Miriam Schmid (Kyle), Erik Storm (Melissa) and Hannah and Andrew Sherwood; loving great-grandmother of Phoebe, Ingrid, Titus and Corinne; dear friend of Steve, Tina, Stephanie and Christina Gregor.

In light of COVID concerns there will be no visitation/viewing and a private funeral service will be held for the family at Gary L. Kaufman Funeral Home at Meadowridge Memorial Park, Inc., 7250 Washington Blvd., Elkridge, Maryland 21075 with interment to follow at Meadowridge Memorial Park. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Ruth's name to Grace Reformed Presbyterian Church Building Fund, 1602 Linden Lane, Relay, Maryland 21227.