My Pen Name

This is Fielda and Sherman Hetherley celebrating their anniversary. (Please ignore the bandaid on her forehead, she hated it.)

When I was a young child, this couple lived across the country road from me. They had married late in life and never had children of their own. She was a retired kindergarten teacher, he was a farmer. They had a lovely country home with a large barn out back. One December morning we spotted Mrs. Hetherley walking down our driveway with an armload of Christmas presents for me and my siblings. I specifically remember that toy snow shovel for my brother that was resting on her shoulder.

She introduced herself that day and it didn't end there. She invited my mother to attend prayer meetings with her and other church events. This couple took my family under their wings and stayed a part of my life until they passed.

My parents were very young and had no money. Their marriage consisted of my dad coming home for a week or two at a time, they would get into a fight — which usually turned violent — and often the police were involved. Then my dad would leave and I would not see him again for a period of time.

With the help and guidance of the Hetherleys, my parents divorced, which was for the best. My mother didn't drive and Fielda became the person who took us to doctor's appointments. Sherman babysat us while our mother attended classes to get her GED. Every December, Sherman took his tractor and wagon and drove into his woods to get us a Christmas tree. I learned later that they came to our house on Christmas Eve and played Santa for us.

Fielda was both kind and strict with me. She was very concerned about manners and made it her job to teach them to me. She would make sure I washed my hands and that I always spoke respectfully.

She also loved to shop! I had a piano recital coming up so she took me shopping. I got a new dress, new Mary Janes, my first pair of nylons, and a pink spring jacket that had daisies embroidered on the pockets. After we shopped, she had me change into my new outfit and she took me to a fancy "sit down" restaurant — as she called it — where there were candles on the table and the waitress brought up a cutting board with our own small loaf of bread. We had a lovely meal. I was nine years old, and I will never forget it. Fielda felt this was what I needed to learn my manners, but to me, it was so special to have this woman treating me with such care.

I called them Grandma and Grandpa and I miss them to this day. When she passed in 1993, I was caught off guard. At the time, I was not living out my faith. I was angry at God and wounded. At her funeral they read a letter she had written at a conference shortly after Sherman had passed. The letter started, "My dear sweet Jesus, how much I love you…." Her words, her praise, all hit my heart and shattered me. I sobbed uncontrollably. A week later I was back in church, and I have been chasing after Jesus ever since.

Sherman and Fielda Hetherley were people of faith, but they never needed to say that. They simply lived it. They showed me Jesus.

I have memories of countless dinners, holidays, and they even took us on vacation! She made sure we had school clothes and haircuts each year. She made bedspreads for me and my siblings. They did far more than stroke a check — they invested in our lives.

I will live the rest of my life trying to emulate their example, as best as I can.

When I started publishing, I wanted to honor them. I played around with a lot of variations and settled on "J. Heather Leigh" in honor of Fielda and Sherman Hetherley.