Journal of Mary Phyllis Fisher - Thomas Davies

She was happy when Glen was made MIA president and bishop of the ward and for his work in
the mission field.
She was pleased when Emma won the MIA speech contest and went to Salt Lake City and came
out in second place, and that she was able to teach school in Hill Spring and to be the primary
president.
I was just 12 years old when Carol was born on the night of the 25 of December 1914. She was
Mother and Father’s ninth child. The day before Christmas stands out in my memory. I knew
that mother wasn’t feeling well, yet she worked so hard to get things ready for Christmas. They
had asked the Robins to come and spend Christmas with us. The Robins had not been in this
country long and missed old England. So mother did want things to be nice for them. I know
that in the afternoon mother had sent Father to get Doctor McCarthy and so on the Christmas
Eve I didn’t sleep very well. I must have gone to sleep for I remember Father coming down the
stairs and telling us to be quiet, that mother was sleeping and that we had a baby sister. And for
us all to get dressed quietly and come down stairs and see what Santa had brought us. Then we
could go in to see mother and the new baby. I was more anxious to see mother and the baby
than to see my gift. One day when I was in the temple a lady came up to me and said, “I
understand you were a Fisher. Were you Carol’s Sister?” When I said yes she told me she had
worked in the Relief Society with Carol and that she was the loveliest person she had ever met.
She was just too good for this old world so the Lord took her home.
I remember when Jim was born how sick mother was. I was 15 years old and did the work and
cared for her. I remember one afternoon I went into the front room where her bed was and she
took my hands in hers and cried. My hands were bleeding and were always chapped and
cracked from putting them in the water so much. She said, “I can’t stand to have you work so
hard”. I remember I put my arms around her and cried too and said, “Oh mother, I don’t care
about my hands or the work, all I want is for you to get well. I couldn’t stand it if you should
die.”
Mother said, “I won’t die darling. The Lord will bless me and I’ll get well.”
She had what they called milk fever and so couldn’t nurse the baby. I’d take Jim over to Sister
Olsen’s who had a baby and lots of milk and she nursed him. Dear Mother had so many trials
but she always put her trust in the Lord.
I remember one day going into her bedroom and she was crying. It was when Father was the
Bishop of the ward. When I asked her what the matter was she said, “Oh the house is so dirty
and full of flies and next week the Stake Presidency and officers will be here and I can’t stand to
have them come to this dirty house. I wanted Father to do some painting and papering and fix
the wire doors up a little but he doesn’t care how it looks.” And then she said, “But as a Bishop
he has so much to do and is so busy I must not complain.”
126