My spiritual life began in 1943 when Eliza Foulke came to visit us. She invited our family to come to Meeting at Gwynedd – and then engaging our three-year-old daughter, Prue, in her quest, said, “And wouldn’t thee like to have some little children to play with?” Successfully accomplishing her mission, for the next morning Prue reminded us that indeed she did want to play with other children in Gwynedd Meeting.

As I looked around the Gwynedd area for a nursery school for Prue, there were no adequate ones to be found. So, now knowing Gwynedd Meeting’s old school house, I went to Eliza Foulke for advice, asking if it might be used for a nursery school. She, having once taught there herself, thought it was a good idea. Would I in return be willing to help her as First Day School superintendent, teach a class? I agreed.

So accordingly I brought the matter to Monthly Meeting. There was some objection – use of lights, heat and maintenance, wear and tear on the floors. But with the Foulkes for it, who could be against it? Afterwards, Eliza did advise me never to bring a subject of any importance to the Monthly Meeting “cold”, without talking “around” first. A good lesson!

Emily Phillips (Johnson), a natural teacher, and well qualified, agreed to teach if I could find ten children. Blood, sweat, and tears produced them, and Gwynedd Nursery School (later kindergarten) was born, with Emily as teacher and Eleanor Evans as nurse.

Meanwhile the Sprogells were finding their community within Gwynedd Meeting.

We newcomers to the Meeting were learning that the Foulkes were never too busy to entertain, to listen, and to laugh. Numerous evenings were spent in their home playing simple games with much laughter. The evenings always began with everyone sitting in a circle, telling at some length, who we were and how we arrived at Gwynedd Meeting. The games seemed uncomplicated, simple and mostly hilarious (such as identifying well-known characters in whose photos heads were attached to other bodies, or finding hidden objects (dollar bills were always in the back of a book!)

Then there were square dances at the MeetingHouse. And picnics abounded, always delectable. Also talented members appeared at evenings devoted to poems, comments, and plays.

There was great talent and willingness among members at Christmas time. Who can forget “The Village of Hearts?” where Jesus asks for shelter and food among the villagers; some of whom were too busy, others too selfish, until finally a small boy opens the door and greets the “beggar” as an honored guest. And another time John Braxton was the little boy contributing his mite, as he went around the upper balcony. And still another time we had a choir singing in the balcony – Harry Sprogell, bass, Tom Foulke, tenor, Linda Paton, alto, and Olga Helman, soprano. (They were wonderful, particularly singing Shubert’s “Lo, how a Rose ‘Er Blooming.”)

And who among those young, at the time, could forget our Mothers’ Evenings? While we stitched, or sewed, (I remember often taking a bushel basket of socks to be mended, hoping someone would help – and they did!), someone would speak or read to us, such as Madge Seaver telling us the story of Mary Fisher, the Quaker maid who felt led to walk across Europe to tell the Sultan of Turkey about Quakerism. She told it so well that I even remember years later the way she described the clothes the Sultan wishes her to wear (in vain), “a silken dress so finely made that it could be drawn through a finger ring” (with gestures). Madge taught at Girls High School in South Philadelphia, and lived with her husband, Ben, and twin boys, who (like John Braxton), refused to register for the draft. Harry Sprogell defended them, as he did Mary Knowles, the librarian at the Plymouth Meeting Library. The boys went to jail; Mary Knowles did not, although indicted by the House Un-American Activities Committee. The day she was indicted (big headlines in the newspaper), Plymouth Meeting gave her a raise!

Adult First Day School had a two-year course, dealing largely with political issues, which Harry had a part in. (I wonder how that would have sailed this Impeachment Year?) In connection with the draft and politics, one zealous member of Meeting had a plaque made bearing the names of members and attenders of Gwynedd Meeting who were serving in the Armed Forces (Harry was one of them in uniform). The plaque was displayed in front of the Meeting for Worship room. Early one First Day morning, Harry “disappeared” it. The plaque was replaced with the names of those doing Alternative Service. (At the time there may have been only one name – Elwood Phillips.) Sometimes Quakers act in mysterious ways, their convictions to uphold.

Fifth Day Meeting was started early on, after we became part of Gwynedd Meeting. It began as a prayer group to help a longtime Quaker who had problems which seemed beyond the help of any individual Friends. (She, as far as I know, never realized the reason for the Fifth Day Meetings’ beginnings). The Meetings were held at the Foulkes, and I remember that dear Albert Livzey and his sister Edith came every time, in spite of his being a full time farmer. He felt that Meeting was the more important. He also sat at the head of Meetings for Worship First Days. He didn’t have a watch, and always sat with eyes closed. And contrary to my children’s worry that he had fallen asleep, he always broke Meeting at the right moment.

Alfred Wright, a beloved Elder with his wife, Jane, once remarked about the grandfather clock which stood in the First Day room whose innards had been removed for repair, that it was a perfect example of “Faith without works.”

I learned whatever I learned of Quaker spiritual values at Eliza’s knees. She was always teaching and combining the Meeting’s needs with the teaching. For example, she knew the value of visiting members and attenders – both ill and well ones. She would invite some younger person to go with her, giving of her information and wisdom enroute. One particular advice, “Don’t stay more than twenty minutes; after that the visit degenerates into chit-chat.” She was right, and how much each of us learned from her going to, during, and after a visit!

Finally, perhaps the high point of my spiritual journey at Gwynedd Meeting was to know that it is possible to live on two levels at once. Both in this world and in the one with God. It is like listening to what is going on, while also hearing a Schubert melody in the background; like taking part in an action while feeling the sun basking on one’s back at the same time; like having God stand in silently, while one is talking with someone.

While the periods of living on two levels at the same time are not always sustained, one can find oneself there, almost always at Meeting for Worship, where, while aware of others and oneself, God seems over-arching it all.

Although I transferred my membership as I have moved – Gwynedd Meeting (now clothed in memory) colors my spiritual outlook wherever I am, and remains my most intense and innermost spiritual place, having known people there who pastured freely where I might never go. My fifteen minutes are over. My love and affection to everyone at Gwynedd Meeting.

Barbara Sprogell Jacobson

[Perhaps written in 1974, since she refers to “this impeachment year; not written in 1999]