Hallie's Handkerchief Holder

Hallie's Handkerchief Holder
Tuesday, May 9, 2023 by Phyllis Kester

Picture of old lace handkerchiefs. In the early 1900s, a few years after Oklahoma Territory and Indian Territory merged to become Oklahoma, the 46th state, a recently widowed Nora May Hays peered anxiously at the horizon and the dirt road one more time. Yesterday morning one of her five sons took her horse and wagon to town to sell produce and pick up supplies. He should have been back last night, but still no sign of him this morning. She was worried. There was no way of knowing what delayed him.

On a sudden impulse, Nora quickly returned to her front door because her infant daughter, Hallie, was inside in a rocking chair with a tea towel tied around her to hold her upright in the rocker. Hallie could entertain herself by moving her head back and forth to make the chair rock. But, as Nora stepped to the doorway, fear seized her heart. Somehow, the rocking chair had turned over and pitched Hallie—headfirst—into the fire in the fireplace. Nora raced to snatch the infant from the flames engulfing her.

Nora wept and prayed as she did her best to tend to her badly burned baby girl’s needs. She knew any help she got would have to be from God because this was rural Oklahoma in the early 1900s. Mrs. Hays, a widow with seven children, had no telephone, no car, no nearby doctor or emergency service, and not even close neighbors.

Sometime later, a visiting preacher heard of the accident and came to call and pray for the badly burned baby girl. His love and compassion touched them all, and none forgot one line of his prayer, “And, Father, please don’t let this little girl have any scarring on her face.”

This all happened over a century ago. But, as Hallie’s only daughter, I can reassure you that God answered that preacher’s specific prayer. Not only was Hallie’s face spared from scarring, but she also went on to live a very normal and productive life for over eight decades. The only remaining sign of the fire upon Mother was the scarring of her left hand that had been thrust into the hot coal bed. It was as if the heat melted her two smaller fingers into the palm of her hand. As a result, the middle and pointer fingers were permanently curled around so that she had a partially closed left hand.

Whenever anyone asked Mother about her scarred hand, she would smile and say, “But God gave me my very own special handkerchief holder.” Then she would demonstrate how a handkerchief tucked down in the small space between her fingers and palm was held so tight it would not shake loose as she waved her left hand in the air.

For most of Mother’s life, she kept a pretty handkerchief tucked in her left hand—in her handkerchief holder. Consequently, many who had known and worked closely with her for years didn’t realize her left hand was deformed. She acquired several academic degrees during her adult years and discovered she loved teaching in grade school. During those years, her friends, students, and the student's parents showered her with beautiful and unusual handkerchiefs for Christmas, birthdays, and other holidays.

When I started wearing contact lenses in my teens, I quickly discovered I preferred carrying one of Mother’s handkerchiefs instead of using a Kleenex with all its accompanying lint. So, for nearly eight decades, I have also been carrying Mother’s handkerchiefs—and still do to this day.

They remind me of God’s provision in difficult times.

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