Virginia May Pierce

Virginia May Pierce went home to Jesus peacefully with her husband and children by her side on October 28, 2010. She was born Virginia May Gow in Philadelphia, PA on September 11, 1929, and was fostered by Katherine and George Wertz until her marriage to Russell Pierce on August 20th, 1949.

She is survived by her loving husband of 61 years, Russell Pierce Jr., four children, Katherine Hartline, Virginia Hayes, Beatrice Clack and Russell David Pierce; eight grandchildren, Rachel Hartline Christilles, Jason Hayes, Virginia Hayes Hartford, James Hayes, Katherine Hayes Mattox, Billy Clack, Stephen Pierce and Rebekah Pierce; and three great grandchildren; Lane Christilles, Sarah Hayes and Sophia Hayes.

Virginia was the ideal Christian wife and mother. She was totally giving of herself to others as a wife, a mother, and a friend to all. She was a stay-at-home mom who enjoyed gardening, sewing, knitting, quilting, cooking, and serving others. In addition to raising her own children, she took care of four of her grandchildren daily throughout their early years. She was a volunteer at Medical Center of Plano, a helper at Mother's Day Out at Meadows Baptist Church, a Den Mother, and a Girl Scout leader. For many years, she supported the missionary efforts of the Household of God International. Virginia and Russ are members of First Christian Church of Plano.

In Virginia's honor, donations may be made to the Household of God International, P.O. Box 27085, Dallas, TX 75227-0585; or to the AML Foundation to help find a cure for Amylotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (Lou Gehrig's Disease) or the ALS Research Center, Department of Neurology, UTSW, 5323 Harry Hines Blvd, Dallas, TX 75390-8869.

MY LOVE

by: James Russell Lowell (1819-1891)

Not as all other women are

Is she that to my soul is dear;

Her glorious fancies come from far,

Beneath the silver evening-star,

And yet her heart is ever near.

Great feelings hath she of her own,

Which lesser souls may never know;

God giveth them to her alone,

And sweet they are as any tone

Wherewith the wind may choose to blow.

Yet in herself she dwelleth not,

Although no home were half so fair;

No simplest duty is forgot,

Life hath no dim and lowly spot

That doth not in her sunshine share.

She doeth little kindnesses,

Which most leave undone, or despise:

For naught that sets one heart at ease,

And giveth happiness or peace,

Is low-esteemèd in her eyes.

She hath no scorn of common things,

And, though she seem of other birth,

Round us her heart entwines and clings,

And patiently she folds her wings

To tread the humble paths of earth.

Blessing she is: God made her so,

And deeds of week-day holiness

Fall from her noiseless as the snow,

Nor hath she ever chanced to know

That aught were easier than to bless.

She is most fair, and thereunto

Her life doth rightly harmonize;

Feeling or thought that was not true

Ne'er made less beautiful the blue

Unclouded heaven of her eyes.

She is a woman: one in whom

The springtime of her childish years

Hath never lost its fresh perfume,

Though knowing well that life hath room

For many blights and many tears.

I love her with a love as still

As a broad river's peaceful might,

Which, by high tower and lowly mill,

Seems following its own wayward will,

And yet doth ever flow aright.

And, on its full, deep breast serene,

Like quiet isles my duties lie;

It flows around them and between,

And makes them fresh and fair and green,

Sweet homes wherein to live and die.