Life of Miracles: Chosen Vessel

By Georgia Frazier

This is the inspiring story of my walk with God. Beginning at an early age, I heard God speak to me, and he continues to do so.

I recall my seven-year hospitalization, finally getting to meet my family, and living on the farm. I tell of my move to Cleveland, where it takes me a while to get used to the big city. Soon after, I meet and marry the love of my life, Ralph. Will I be able to carry a baby in spite of what my doctors warned?

I tell of my first sermon at age twenty and ministering in Page, West Virginia. I oversaw the building of a new church in North Eaton, Ohio, and I tell of my time spent there. My new, fast-growing ministry is blessed with great music and zeal. God inspires the birthing of this book.

Life of Miracles will chronicle the many miracles God has performed for me and the ministry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512718959

Georgia Frazier

Georgia Frazier was born in West Virginia. She was the seventh child of twelve. She almost burned to death when she was two years old, and seven years of her life were spent in an orthopedic hospital. Doctors said she would not be able to have children, but she has four daughters. Georgia is a survivor of ovarian and breast cancer.

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Copyright © 2015 Georgia Frazier.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. This is the true life story of Georgia Frazier, the autobiographer of Life of Miracles.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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ISBN: 978-1-5127-1894-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-1896-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-1895-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015918305

WestBow Press rev. date: 11/18/2015

DEDICATED TO THE HEARTS OF EVERY READER

Contents

Chapter 1 / The Fire

Chapter 2 / School House Hollow

Chapter 3 / God Heard Me

Chapter 4 / One Room School

Chapter 5 / Thelma’s Influence

Chapter 6 / Farm Life Stories

Chapter 7 / High School Years

Chapter 8 / Meeting Ralph And Married

Chapter 9 / The First Baby To The Last Baby

Chapter 10 / My First Calling

Chapter 11 / Church Visitations

Chapter 12 / More Moves

Chapter 13 / Hospital Job

Chapter 14 / My Dad, Ivan Smith

Chapter 15 / My Mother, Elsie

Chapter 16 / Granny Frazier And Helen

Chapter 17 / My Sister Ruth

Chapter 18 / Our Firstborn

Chapter 19 / Teresa And Family

Chapter 20 / Brenda And Family

Chapter 21 / Ruthie And Family

Chapter 22 / Pastoral Beginnings

Chapter 23 / The New Conversion Van

Chapter 24 / Avon Church Of God

Chapter 25 / Chosen Journey

Chapter 26 / Christ Chapel

Chapter 27 / Eleanor

Chapter 28 / Living Waters Ministries

Chapter 29 / Change Of Events

Chapter 30 / The Siblings

Chapter 31 / The Sovereign Hand Of God

In Remembrance My Husband, Ralph Lynwood Frazier

About The Author

Daughter’s Letters

Acknowledgements

Works Cited

Chapter 1 / THE FIRE

W e lived in Schoolhouse Hollow, Wayne County, West Virginia. It was the first winter in the beginning of World War II, the last part of the fourth term of President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1939. He was the only president to ever serve four consecutive terms in office. My dad told me the president led the World War to peace and was a good president during hard times.

I was two years old, the baby in the house at the time, and the seventh child. There would be five more siblings born after me.

On this cold winter morning, mommy was washing our clothes by hand on a washboard. As she was accustomed, in a big number three galvanized washtub. Her mind on the war, her family and country. My oldest sisters, Thelma and Neltha, were in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes. Ruth and Wanda were at school. My sister, Dovie, was six years old and our brother, Boyd, was four. They were with me in the living room playing. The living room being down the hall was like an additional room having a big fireplace. I was wearing the little outing gown my mom had made for me with love and care. It reached to the floor to keep me warm. It was a soft material like flannel with little fuzzes on the surface.

We were having fun tearing up pieces of paper and throwing them into the fireplace, like magic they disappeared! Watching with fascination as the paper and sparks flew up the chimney. While still holding onto the burning paper, my fingertips were suddenly burned and I dropped the paper on my gown. The entire front of my gown was instantly on fire, with such an extreme blaze. The flames were going over my head in no time. Dovie seeing me on fire ran in panic to tell. One look at Dovie and mommy ran to the living room! There was a bed in the living room at the time, for added warmth from the fireplace. Mommy quickly pulled the blanket off the bed rolling me up in it to put out the flames, carrying me in the blanket she ran outside. Our living room smelled of burning flesh. Thelma was sent running for help, she ran all the way to Aunt Mae and Uncle Lafe’s house, up and over the hill, about a mile away. Mommy and daddy knew that Uncle Lafe had an old car. They were better off financially than our family, but we were better farmers. Thelma being out of breath, franticly told them what had happened. Uncle Lafe, trying to hurry as fast as he could, had to get his old car started before being on their way. Transportation and support at such a needed time was truly God and His provision.

I wasn’t old enough to know the extreme emergency to survive, neither did I know the plan God had for my life. God is mindful of us, our situations and needs.

They drove by our family doctor’s office on the way to the hospital, not knowing if Doctor Porter was there. We found him to be in. The doctor looked me over and shook his head and said, I can’t do anything for her. He went on to say, She won’t live through the night, take her home and keep her as comfortable as possible. My mother and father stepped outside the office door and my dad said, We can’t do that! Knowing they shouldn’t have stopped at our doctor’s office, which was eighteen miles from our home. They continued the journey to the hospital in Huntington an additional twenty miles.

My mom told me she held me close, as I just quietly whined. She tried to get my mind to focus on something other than my pain, showing me the pretty colored street lights. We didn’t have the lights in or around School House Hollow where we lived. As we came closer to the city there were more and more traffic lights and colored lights to hold my attention.

It had been five hours since the horrible trauma of the fire. We finally arrived at the hospital in Huntington. I was burned so badly over my body that there was an opening on my stomach. I would need many surgeries and skin grafts. The extended hospital stay included surgeries and treatments for my critical burns, using all they had to work with at that time.

Our best is the deepest concern and desire to give and do that which is most needed of our ability, physical, and spiritual being.

There would be long term medical care needed. My dad and mom must have had some kind of public assistance. Our parents didn’t tell us children business things that we didn’t need to know.

Even though our family raised almost all our food, there was no way to meet all the medical expenses I would need. I am thankful that I had the needed care.

Up until my shocking, horrible, life threatening burns. There had not been any major medical problems in our family. Except, our dad’s goiter surgery which was before I was born.

Our mother had never been in the hospital. All her babies were delivered at home. The family could take care of stumped toes, bumped heads, nose bleeds, splinters and cuts.

Fortunately, I don’t remember any of the pain from the burns. At two years old and greatly injured, it may have been so horrible that my conscience wiped it from my memory. In fact, I don’t remember wearing my long gown, playing with my sister and brother, or even sticking papers in the fire and watching them go up the chimney. I don’t remember going to the hospital or the pretty street lights.

I don’t remember my mom staying with me at the hospital for the first two weeks. I don’t remember being held down in the Epson salt water. I am sure my mom helped the nurses and came as often as she could. She told me later that she wished she could have spent more time with me at the hospital. Her heart was with me. She was a dear mother. But, it was just not possible with so many young children at home and no transportation. I can’t remember her visits anyway, but I am sure she was so concerned about her baby.

My first remembrance in life was being put to sleep with ether as I try to pull it off my nose, at the Huntington Orthopedic Hospital. I vaguely remember my mom standing beside my bed with her hands on the bed rail. Then another time as she was telling me about my siblings at home. I wanted her to tell me more.

In the beginning of treatments when I was dunked into a lot of Epsom salt baths. The salts encouraged better circulation and drew out the infection, foreign substances, and dead flesh out of the wounded area. As I think back now, I wonder if the flames caused my little outing gown to melt into my stomach and thighs. These dunking sessions and soakings had to be very painful. If my mom was visiting at the time, she would always help the nurses hold me down in those baths. She said it was even more painful for her to watch me go through these sessions.

Cooperating for her more than I did for the nurses, I’m sure the nurses looked forward to my mother’s visits. Daddy probably was a bit jealous due to the fact that Mommy would be away to see me for long hours. The entire family must have had more work to do pitching in to pick up the slack. In winter, there was cutting wood for the fireplace and for the kitchen stove. Sometimes there would be digging coal from the old forsaken coal mines on the hill. There was always the cooking, laundry, and taking care of the farm animals.

My mom told me, I stayed in the intensive care and the burn unit at this first hospital in Huntington for forty-two days. From there I was transferred to the Huntington Orthopedic Hospital for Crippled Children for a long series of more surgeries, recoveries and treatments. Doctor Jones, who did my skin grafts, told my mother that I would not be able to have children when I was grown. The depth of the scarring, the skin grafts that tracked across my stomach, and the fact that the skin grafts would not stretch. The doctor asked my mother to explain this to me when I was older. She later told me the sad news with great concern and compassion.

Being in the hospital since I was two years old, I never remembered living in any other place. The hospital surroundings was my home. The hospital provided preschool activities for me and kept me busy with other daily hospital routines. I made friends with the other children there and became close to the staff, as they were to me. They were my family. This was my home. My mother’s love and prayers kept us close, she never gave up. My mom gave birth to three more babies while I was in the hospital for the first five years. She was three or four months pregnant with my brother Virgil, when I almost burned to death from the open fireplace. I had yet to meet my brothers Virgil and Roscoe, and my new little baby sister, Catherine. Our family now had ten children I was just as shocked to meet my family, as they were to meet me.

I didn’t remember our house, my dad or my older brothers and sisters! I felt like a baby bird out of the nest! My siblings noticed how I was favored in certain ways. I could get away with things that the others were never allowed. My older brothers and sisters were more understanding. They felt the reality and joy of having me home. The older siblings remembered me as the baby. My younger siblings didn’t know me, they had never met me, and thought I talked funny. The entire family treated me very well and also spoiled me to some extent. The love and acceptance of my family was beyond my words.

Since age seven was the customary age for a child to begin first grade, my parents decided to put me in the neighborhood one-room school. However, things didn’t work out as planned. My new teacher noticed that I was always standing on my right toe and leaning to my left. The teacher wrote my parents a note that I would have to return to the hospital. Mommy had already noticed my standing on one toe, and she had been reminding me often to put my heel down. I would put my foot down real fast, not wanting to go back to the hospital. But it was too late, my stay at home was over.

Back to Huntington Orthopedic Hospital we went. The doctors discovered that as I was growing the scars were all twisting and pulling. There was a scar that went all the way down from above my waist to my leg and was pulling me over to my left side. They called it a web scar. My left arm was bent into an L shape from the pulling scars. A little pocket had formed in the elbow bend, and I remember as a child putting pennies in the little pocket. The doctor in surgery cut the pulling scar on my arm, straighten it out and then fit it with a cast that went up to my shoulder. Without this surgery, I could have never used my left arm.

I had surgery again to cut the scars on my left side that were pulling me to one side. When I woke up in a body cast and an arm cast. I felt very restricted, as though I had no control over my body. For a long time I would just lie on the bed not knowing if I could do anything other than lay. It took me a while to realize that I could move with the help of staff. I wore the body cast for a long period of time to keep my spine straight, while my surgeries were healing.

I remember trying to roll over in bed. The body cast went from under my armpits to just above my knees, and there was a board between my knees. The board along with the cast, was keeping my spine straight. Between the body cast and the cast on my arm, I had to roll over like a turtle in a shell. If I rolled over and too much weight went in the wrong direction, I would be off-balance. I definitely remember the time I rolled off the edge of the bed and clunked unto the floor!

Of course, being in the casts, the nurses had to do many things for me. After a long while, I taught myself by trial and error that I could walk in the cast by slinging one foot to the side, then sling the other foot toward the other side, thereby walking with a zigzag type of motion. Walking in any manner was wonderful and amazing to me!

The joy of my newfound abilities kept me moving about. I was able to adapt to many obstacles that came along the way. I remember sticking pencils down my cast in an effort to reach and ease the itching. The hospital took care of all the children’s physical needs. I’m sure I received better dental care than if I’d been living at home. I know that any time they worked on our teeth or for our various surgeries, they gave us ether to put us to sleep. And in my case it was surgeries, skin grafts, tonsils and appendix. To this day, whenever I smell ether, I am immediately taken back in my mind to those hospital times. There were many instances when they had put me to sleep, I needed so many surgeries.

I still had to learn my reading, writing and arithmetic so my early schooling was done at this Huntington Orthopedic Hospital for Crippled Children where I was residing. We had our classroom in the clinic. Our class was in a very large room with a lot of beds. The teacher would come to each of our beds and spend time with us individually. I enjoyed these school class room sessions. When learning my left and right, I knew that my left arm was my scared arm.

It always made me feel better when Mommy would come to visit and share about things that were going on at home. She told me of some horse-playing that Ruth and Wanda were doing on the bed. Ruth would lie at the head of the bed with her knees bent. She told Wanda to sit on her feet and she would give her a ride. Wanda would sit on her feet, Ruth would push her legs forward, and the goal was for Wanda to land on the mattress at the foot of the bed. This time Ruth pushed a little too hard and Wanda landed beyond the bed and broke her wrist. Mommy said she would have to take her to the doctor. Wanda complained about her wrist hurting. Wanda’s mishap scared Ruth so much she told Wanda, If you don’t cry when you go to the doctor I will give you a nickel. Mommy took Wanda to Dr. Johnson in Wayne. He asked my mother to help him set Wanda’s arm. Mommy pulled back on Wanda’s arm, while the doctor pulled forward on her hand. When he could see that the two bones were together, he wrapped her wrist and put it in a cast. Wanda got the nickel and I wasn’t the only family member in a cast! Mommy was always kind with a loving quiet spirit. I would urge her to talk and tell more family stories. She was just happy to be with me, we loved being together.

My nephew, Gerald Maynard, also recalled his long stay at Huntington Orthopedic Hospital for Crippled Children. Gerald was Dovie and Doyle’s first baby born Sept. 4th. 1951. Gerald had spent time as a patient in the building and was curious to see the changes that had been made through the years. Some time later he took a peek inside and said it looks the same on the outside, but that the inside is very different since it’s been remodeled.

Gerald brought to surface the facts that were registered in my memory from the seven years I had spent in that building. The hospital was first located in a large home owned by the Nelsons. Gerald recalled the people he remembered at the orthopedic hospital and one was the Head Nurse. I vaguely remember her, although she maybe hadn’t yet become head nurse while I was there. The doctor, who was also the main surgeon that started the hospital was Dr. Arthur Jade Jones. Dr. Jones, did many or all of my skin grafts. He was so kind and must have been an excellent surgeon.

Gerald also mentioned Don Jenkins, he was in charge of the children’s activities and entertainment. I remember him as he would show us movies on the old movie reels, snapping a lot of pictures and taking us on field trips. Gerald asked Don Jenkins if he remembered Georgia Smith, his aunt, when she resided at Huntington Orthopedic. He said, Yes, I remember her well! She was about seven years old. In fact, Gerald picked up a hospital magazine that showed a picture of me sitting on a piano and I had little pigtails. He wanted to bring the magazine home because of my picture, but someone else took it. Gerald said that after Don Jenkins retired, he continued to come to the hospital to entertain the children. He was a wonderful person. Many children have good memories of him, as I do.

Gerald had polio when he was a baby and was in the Huntington Orthopedic Hospital. He stayed there for months at a time, and once he even stayed for an entire year. Gerald was put in a body cast to straighten his back. Sponges were pushed around inside the cast in an effort to manipulate the spine in the direction they wanted it to go. Gerald, at age 64, still bears the signs of his affliction. The Huntington Orthopedic Hospital is no longer there. The good memories of the long term care, will last through out our lives.

In 1947 after seven long years, I returned home from the Huntington Orthopedic Hospital for Crippled Children to be with my family in Schoolhouse Hollow! After I came home from the hospital, this time for good, our parents soon moved us to the farm on Beechy Branch Road. My dad being a wise man, must have had this handpicked farm in mind for when we could all be together. The land was rich and fertile, good for growing crops. It was a good location and a beautiful place to live.

This farm house was the best house we ever had while growing up. There was a nice size living room with a double fireplace, one in the living room and the other in our parents’ bedroom. Daddy put a new floor in their bedroom, a tongue and groove flooring. I didn’t know anything about a tongue and grove floor, only hearing daddy talk about it. The new floor was nice, he did a great job. Daddy was proud of his work. Even though he didn’t claim to be a carpenter he was very particular with his work, everything had to be just right.

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Beechy Branch farmhouse

The first floor also had the girls’ bedroom off the living room. The kitchen was near the back of the house by the stair case. The boys had full range of the large room upstairs, and they enjoyed their space. The house had a long front L-shaped porch and a smaller porch in the back by the kitchen. We had plenty of room.

Texann and Ivan Jr., were born at home on Beechy Branch. Our now completed family had our parents, Ivan and Elsie, and us twelve children! If my dad was here he would say, Ivan and Sweet Elsie! Through the years, Sweet Elsie was dad’s loving name for mommy, all of us children knew it quite well. By this time two of my older sisters, Thelma and Neltha were married and no longer lived at home. The rest of us lived on the Beechy Branch farm. After a few years of farm life, other brothers and sisters got married and moved away to start their own families.

Eventually, many home and property owners were bought out including our home on Beechy Branch. The surrounding area homes were bought out in Wayne County. The large East Lynn Dam was built with a beautiful lake for vacationers. The large dam offered Boating, fishing and camping sites. This lovely camp site is where we have our yearly family reunions. Boyd reserves this same camp site a year in advance for our reunions. He takes charge and never says a word about pavilion rental fees.

Mom and dad relocated to Wayne, West Virginia. Their retirement home was on the hill in Wayne. They were now living in the city. Wayne was different than the farm. Mommy and Daddy now had a more relaxed, comfortable lifestyle. Daddy made a small garden on the bank beside the house and planted flower bushes in front of the porch. They could sit on the porch and look down over the town, enjoying their home. Daddy liked to walk down off the hill to a neighborhood grocery store, buy a few things and talk with friends. He also, looked forward to going up to the town court house lawn, sitting on the benches, and trading pocket knives. Daddy loved walking to a little Baptist church nearby, and Texann would go with him on Sunday nights. Texann the only one still living at home was happy and content, being a great help to mom and dad in their later years.

Chapter 2 / SCHOOL HOUSE HOLLOW

W e lived on Schoolhouse Hollow Road which ran off of Beechy Branch Road. This is the house where I was born and almost burned to death in an open fireplace. This is where we lived when I came home from the hospital. Starting school and having to return to the orthopedic hospital in Huntington for another long stay.

My family had moved three times while I was in the hospital. They lived in Stiltner and Paw Paw before moving back to School House Hollow. I have only three vivid memories of living in this house. One was a crack in the living room wood board flooring. Looking down through the crack you could see the ground. My sisters and I would sweep dirt from the floors into the crack. I thought it was fun to sweep the dirt down through a hole. Our floors were rough wood boards. This was a big change compared to the hospital tile floors. I loved our home everything was just so different.

My second memory, there was a big oak tree growing up out of the middle of a large flat rock near the back of our house. This big rock under the tree made a perfect place for my playhouse. Young girls took a great interest in playing house. Having plenty of catching-up to do, I wanted to keep playing and playing. The big outdoors was both exciting and exploring. I turned an old kettle upside-down to be my stove and pulled some seeds off a tree that looked just like green beans. I broke the beans in a very small pan. Pretending to cook and using a large block of wood for my table. I found some broken dish pieces for my plates. Very pleased with my creation, I took an oversized discarded purse and pretended to go shopping.

While I was away shopping my nine-year old brother Boyd did some creation of his own. Putting some poop on my plates and climbing up in the tree. He hid within the leaves waiting to see my reaction when I returned. I came back very upset by what I saw displayed on my table, I began to cry. I said, I’m going to tell Mommy! All of a sudden it started to rain. The rain was warm. I cried even more when I looked up and saw it was my brother Boyd peeing on me. Boyd started laughing so hard that he almost fell out of the tree. I ran away crying to tell Mommy, and she got the switch after him. Boyd got a good whipping! His getting a whipping made me feel better, but when mommy wasn’t looking he was still laughing.

As I grew up I realized that Boyd just liked to have something to laugh about. He loves to laugh and his laugh is very identifiable. When people hear him laughing, Haaaaaw, haaw, haaw, haaw, haaw, they say, Oh, that’s Boyd Smith laughing. People found his laugh so entertaining they would purposely tell him something funny to get him to laugh.

My third memory involves a deep embankment near our unpaved driveway. I was looking at the thick bushes down the embankment when I saw the bushes move. Being curious at what could be moving in the bushes. I threw a rock toward the location of the movement. Throwing that rock was regretted. The moving in the bushes was my little brother Roscoe. He was looking for chicken eggs. He loved to find chickens’ nests as he would gather the eggs and take them into the house, smiling at his find.

The misguided rock hit him on the forehead. His head was bleeding and I was afraid not knowing how bad he was hurt. I was upset that I had hit Roscoe with that rock. Knowing that it was an accident didn’t make me feel any better. Roscoe recently at our reunion pulled his hair back and showed me the scar, kiddingly saying, Look what you did!

When my brother Roscoe was older he loved to go squirrel hunting. He would get up very early in the morning and be gone for most of the day. Roscoe an excellent marksman was very successful at this hunting endeavor. He came home with squirrels pinned to his clothes by their tails. He was very proud of himself. He liked knowing that our mother would can or fry the squirrels. We liked them fried. When canning the squirrels, after skinning them and cleaning out the insides, mommy would place the squirrel in the jar. They still looked like squirrels in the jars.

Roscoe still enjoys his good hunting skills and he loves spending time in the mountains. He receives a personal sense of achievement as he conquers and explores the wild. A week before our most recent reunion, he spent the day in the mountains digging yellow root. I don’t know a lot about yellow root, but I am sure it’s worth some good money by the pound when he dries it out. Roscoe has also been very good at finding ginseng, which is also a root that must be dried out before selling it. He can get about ninety dollars per pound from the ginseng. I was always amazed at how much ginseng it takes to make a pound. When it is dried out it is feather weight. Roscoe loves the mountains and all its treasures. I learned a lot from my four brothers, their seeking the unknown and the determination to achieve. They might be gone all day; however, would never go hunting and come back empty handed.

Chapter 3 / GOD HEARD ME

W hen I was ten we moved to the farm on Beechy Branch Road in Wayne County, West Virginia. I have so many awesome vivid memories of my childhood from being raised on that farm.

You would think that the children being acquainted with things of nature and having seen all the creatures that live on a farm, would not be afraid of any creeping thing. At ten years old… I was still terrified of snakes. If I saw a snake I would either try to kill it or run as fast as I could to get away from it. In fact, there will never be a time when I am not afraid snakes.

It had been a hot summer with little rain and our well had gone dry. We depended on that well for our drinking water. Sometimes, when the well was almost dry, we would look down in the bottom and could see little wiggle tails in it. They resembled eel-like creatures but were much smaller than minnows.

Mommy would put sulfur in the well to kill them and to purify the water. Our well had gone dry and I was going up the dirt road that went past our house to get water from the spring. This cool spring water ran down the mountain and was fresh clean and cool. Sometimes we children would just cup our hands under the water stream and drink.

It was a beautiful day as I walked with the sky so perfectly blue. The dirt road was smooth and wide, it seemed as though I was the only person in the world. As I walked up the road to the spring, I hoped that I wouldn’t see a snake. I had looked out across the field, and down over the road. I looked everywhere, diligently searching, not that I wanted to see a snake. I wanted to make