Zeralda “Ruth” Rush was born on 24 June, 1908 in Jim Henry township, Miller County, MO, to Ephraim “Ephie” David (1869-1942) and Alice Isabelle “Belle” Bittle (1877-1951) Rush. She was the eighth child of twelve and a younger sister to Ishmael L. Rush with whom she was very close. Theirs was a musical family. Ruth played a horn and I.L. played a fiddle.
Archie Truman Rush, Sr. was born to Albert “Lee” (1879-1981)and Minnie Catherine Sullens (1900-1951) Rush on 9 September, 1905 in Jim Henry Township also. He was their 3rd child of ten children.
They, third cousins, married on 28 August 1926 in St. Louis, MO. Together they had one child, Archie Trueman Rush, Jr., born 12 July, 1927. “Junior” begat three grandchildren with his wife, Jewell Mae Vernon (1927-1992).
Ruth and Archie farmed a piece of land off Rush Road in Jim Henry Twp., Eugene, MO. I’ve heard stories that Ruth was a dead aim and could shoot squirrels from her front porch for the supper-pot. As far as hobbies go, she was a quilter, crocheted doilies to sell for pocket money and could write very good poetry (see the sample below)..
She was a member of the Eldon, MO. Church of the Nazarene.
Archie died on 22 January 1993. Ruth died 11 October 1999, tragically in a car accident beside her big brother, Ishmael. Her funeral service was held at the Phillips Funeral Home in Eldon. Her pastor, Rev. Jerry Frye officiated. All were buried in the Rush Chapel Cemetery in Jim Henry, between Mary’s Home and Tuscumbia, MO.
The Poor Old Beggar
By Ruth Rush.
The night was cold and dreary, the rain was coming down,
The poor old ragged beggar lie silently on the ground.
His clothes were worn and shabby, his hair was all unkempt,
His body tired and weary; for nights he hadn’t slept.
No one seemed to love him; he had tried but all in vain
To find a place of shelter, but everywhere the same.
The finest homes he hunted, and asked for a bite to eat,
Always “No” for an answer; was made to walk the streets.
He came to a humble dwelling, the steps were tumbled down.
He knocked upon the door and this is what he found:
A smile from the nicest lady with music in her words,
The most hearty welcome that he had ever heard.
“Madam, I hate to bother, but please, just a bite or two,
I’m so weak and hungry; I know not what to do;
I know you must be busy, “Hush,” said the lady fair,
Dinner just now is ready, with you we’ll gladly share.”
He thanked her very kindly as he sat with trembling hands,
He thought she was the nicest that lived throughout the land,
He kept his eyes upon her and watched her all the time.
“What makes her so different?” was the thought that crossed his mind.
She finished up the dinner and showed him where to sit,
She bowed her head in reverence as her hands together clasped.
The meal was not the finest, but was eaten with great delight
By the lady who had fixed it, and the beggar at the right.
She began to talk of Jesus and His love for everyone,
How He died upon the cross, and her heart to Him was won.
The beggar sat in silence and listened to her words
His heart beat fast and heavy; that Name somewhere he’d heard.
“The name again,” he asked her, “Jesus, did you say?”
I thank you for your kindness, I must now be on my way.”
“Just a minute, Mister beggar, I’ve a Book here on the stand.
Take it with you, please sir, and read it when you can.
“Here’s a coat I’ll give you; it will help to keep you warm.
Then I want you to pray, sir, for God to keep you from all harm.”
He bowed his head and thanked her, his eyes were filled with tears;
He thought: “I’m just a beggar, I wonder why she cares?”
The door was closed behind him, the lady knelt in prayer;
“Father, I’ve done my best, Save him out there somewhere.”
The beggar walked in haste, no one did he see,
His eyes toward the ground, his thoughts—eternity.
His mind began to wonder, the sun was sinking low;
He turned into the park, no other place to go.
He slept upon a bench and shivered from the cold;
“God keep you from all harm” rang out so clear and bold.
The nights were spent in misery, the days were sadder still;
He roamed the streets and highways and climbed the rugged hills.
He opened up his bundle he’s carried for many miles,
And found his mother’s picture with the happiest little smile.
He looked into her face, then clasped it to his breast;
“I’ll open up the Book and read it while I rest.”
He scanned through its pages, read how Christ had died,
How they spat upon His face and stabbed Him in the side.
He read within its pages, He died for all mankind;
“I’ll prepare for you a home and will come for you some time.”
His heart was oh, so hungry, as we went upon his way.
He heard the sweetest music and listened while they prayed.
He looked his trousers over, he felt his bearded face,
His hair was long and stringy, he seemed quite out of place.
The preacher took his text, and talked on Love Divine,
How everyone must meet the Christ out there some time.
The beggar sat and listened, he knew it was for him.
He staggered to the altar, God saved him from all sin.
The beggar rose with victory, his hands were lifted high,
His heart was overflowing, his face was toward the sky.
The people grouped around him and listened while he told,
How for years he’d been a beggar and slept out in the cold.
His mother’s name was mentioned, how she prayed and talked to God,
How his heart was hungry to walk the path she’d trod.
Today he is a preacher, he never knows defeat,
Because of God and mother and the lady down the street.