Spanning more than a century, Sheltered in His Arms touches six generations of an Oklahoma pioneer family whose faith in God strengthened them as they followed God’s Word in their daily lives. Throughout their struggles, whether enduring great physical hardships, suffering devastating emotional losses, or simply toiling eighteen hours a day, God’s Word remained the Scarberry family guide. In doing so, Porter and Agnes Scarberry instilled their Christian values in their offspring. Sheltered in His Arms is our attempt to accurately chronicle the life of the last of their seven surviving children, Wilma Lee Scarberry. Applying these same Christian values in her own life, Ms. Wilma Norris Knight overcame great adversity to raise three extraordinarily patriotic sons. After losing one son in the Vietnam War, the two surviving Norris brothers created a powerful legacy. Undeniably, one has even become a high profile American icon recognized throughout the world. However, regardless of their successful pursuits, Carlos Ray (Chuck) and Aaron Dee have always strived to maintain humble Christian values in their own lives while making great efforts to share them with their friends, family, and our nation’s future generations. With a full understanding of the significance and responsibility of accurately recording history, we have painstakingly researched available resources to maintain historical accuracy in reference to time, location, and circumstance throughout the life of Ms. Wilma Knight. However, some conversations were surmised by our interpretation of actual events described firsthand. Likewise, our own insight and personal experiences were sometimes utilized to convey the desired perspective while striving to remain historically accurate to the best of our ability. Please be aware that for much of our early story, we were limited in verifiable sources for additional perspectives. Conflicting information occasionally surfaced with which we diligently compared and analyzed in an effort to accurately discern the facts for our readers. As a result, we apologize if we have inadvertently erred in historical reality. However, if indeed we have, it did not occur with any intent of malice. More so, we have prayed daily for the Lord’s guidance to share His message as He desires. Sheltered in His Arms has truly been a work of love for my mother, Correna Wilson Pickens. It has simply been my aspiration that she fulfill her dream of sharing Ms. Wilma Knight’s inspirational story with the world. In many ways, their lives have paralleled each other. Not only do they share an impoverished, southern Oklahoma upbringing, but an unrelenting strong faith in God. Without their many common bonds, this story could not have been shared in the same manner in which we have so faithfully pursued. Our greatest ambition for Sheltered in His Arms lies in our desire to inspire others when facing great mountains or finding themselves alone in the valley, to reach out to God for guidance and strength. If our lowly efforts are successful for only one individual, we will feel blessed to have shared God’s eternal Grace. We sincerely hope you enjoy Sheltered in His Arms.
For The Promise Is Unto You, And To Your Children.
Acts 2:39a
A fire burned low in the large native rock fireplace as a coal oil lamp cast its warm, yellow dim glow from the far corner of the room. An occasional flicker revealed the worried, ruggedly handsome face of John Porter Scarberry as he nervously paced the split timber floor of their two-room log cabin. Concerned the growing activity in the adjoining room would be hindered by the ominous storm brewing outside, he stopped and stood in the open doorway. Piercing the darkness, his eyes slowly traced the south horizon, scanning for any movement to foretell their late, but anxiously awaited visitor’s arrival.
The fast approaching storm’s high altitude ceiling had already blotted out most of the stars. Moreover, patchy low cloud cover dulled the narrow sliver of a waning moon, erasing the possibility of moonlight aiding any hurried travelers attempting to follow the uneven matrix of well-worn wagon ruts etched deeply into the county road. Suddenly, a brilliant extended flash of lightning streaked across the angry sky allowing Porter to peer down the desolate road in search for their expected guest. A few seconds later, thunder rolled like a volley of cannon balls assaulting the massive plume of warm, moist air churning rapidly upward over the late-spring cold front intent upon delivering Ol’ Man Winter’s final assault on southern Oklahoma.
Tension continued to grow inside the cabin and out as jagged lightning emanated from within the looming thunderhead’s enormously swollen anvil-shaped head. Ominous, low-hanging funnel clouds rapidly approached from the southwest. Their intense energy seemed in direct contrast with the warm gentle air drawn towards them, reminding Porter that Oklahoma’s deadly tornado season had arrived once more. Nevertheless, tonight the Scarberry’s were expecting a more permanent arrival. From the looks of things, she appeared in a great hurry. However, had she known everyone’s great anticipation to first glimpse their new baby sister, she probably would have taken longer to arrive. ------------------------------------------------ After their trip, the Scarberry’s looked forward to rejoining their church family on Sunday. On Friday, Mama and the girls did the washing on scrub boards in their #3 washtub to give time for the clothes to dry. However, as Papa Scarberry had predicted, another cold front moved through and the weather turned cold and rainy again. Mama Scarberry brought their clothes inside and hung them near the wood stove. By Sunday morning, it was even colder, but the showers had cleared out, leaving an overcast day.
Agnes made sure everyone was bathed and wearing their freshly ironed Sunday go-to-meeting clothes. The older girls worked a few drops of olive oil into their hair as they brushed it, before tying it back with a ribbon. The men slicked down their hair with clear Vaseline hair oil and combed each hair into its place. Aggie and the girls wore their cotton-print feedsack dresses while Porter and Hershel were dressed in their best blue and white striped overalls with pressed white long-sleeved cotton shirts. Boots wore a white cotton feedsack dress with pink lace and matching booties.
After moving from their farm to town, the Scarberry family usually walked to church. Ozell and Ruby helped their little sisters bundle up warmly before leaving for the Sunday morning service. Upon their arrival at the First Baptist Church, Mama Scarberry beamed with joy as Porter and Hershel escorted her and the girls into the church house that first Sunday morning back. After the worship service, their church family was hosting a covered-dish dinner. Their anxious anticipation made it nigh impossible for the children to sit still during the sermon. After the benediction, the younger kids immediately ran outside to play. The church’s activities provided great fellowship for young and old alike and the Scarberry family was no exception. ------------------------------------------------ A Sea of Strange Faces
Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.
Psalm 61:1
The first few days in the hospital were difficult for Wilma. She told herself she now knew how Mama Scarberry’s pincushion must feel. She did not know she had so much blood to spare; it seemed like every day they were taking a little more. As her days became routine, she slowly realized the significance of the hospital hosting The University of Oklahoma’s Health Sciences medical training program. Consequently, nurses would frequently transfer her to a gurney and roll her into an examination room. Once there, she would lie under bright lights with a never-ending sea of strange faces peering down at her. Medical students, supervisors, interns, residents, consulting physicians, and student nurses, were continuously examining her. She thought it was impolite how they discussed her condition as if she was not even there.
Wilma quickly began to feel like one of the circus attractions that she had heard the men talk about while walking through the midway when the circus had come to town. Mama had not allowed them to see inside the tents, but she remembered the large canvas paintings of unusual people. She now felt compassion for those poor misfits whom strangers paid to gawk and stare at as if they were not human. Before long, each day began to feel more like a nightmare, instead of a dream come true. Days, then weeks passed, and still, there were no treatments. The poor frightened child began to wonder how long she would have to wait before someone started treating her, if ever. ------------------------------------------------ Wilma bundled up in her overcoat and stepped outside to allow the freezing temperatures and increased oxygen to awaken her mind. The harsh northern winds assaulted the soft, white landscape around her. Wilma’s initial reaction to the surreal surroundings prompted her to question if this was all a bad dream... a nightmare. However, deep down inside, she knew all too well that Papa had just passed from this life. Realizing she would never again see or hear her father in this world, Wilma closed her eyes. Deeply inhaling the harsh wintry air, the scent of hardwood smoke infused her mind as she silently told her papa goodbye, a final time. She assured him that one day she would see him again in Heaven. Keeping her eyes closed afterwards, Wilma became acutely aware of her surroundings. Every sound… the wind, as it whipped about the bare tree limbs, the mournful crying inside the house, a distant car, a neighbor’s dog barking, her own breath, everything merged into one amalgamation. Mama’s living room kerosene lamp shone through the partially open curtains covering the front door glass. The lamp’s melancholy glow, affronted by the freezing darkness, cast a dismal glimmer into the street. Unknown to Wilma, Ray apprehensively watched his deeply affected wife from behind the curtain. He wanted to go to her, console her, but knew she needed this time alone. Besides, what could he say or do to comfort her?
Before opening her eyes, Wilma made a conscious effort to remember her father’s face, his voice, his hands, every detail. She shut out all her senses, absorbing the moment in an effort to connect to that space and time forever. Standing alone in the darkness, Wilma began feeling a deep peace growing within her heart. She began singing these words, quietly at first:
God is still on His throne!
He will never leave us alone!
God still cares for His own!
Praise God, He’s on His Throne!
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