Deacon Earl Williams, Sr.

Deacon Earl Williams, Sr., age 91, of Greenwood, FL went home to be with the Lord on Tuesday, April 7, 2015 in the Bay Medical Center in Panama City, FL.

He was the owner of Earl Williams and Sons Lawn Service, a native of Jackson County and a member of Saint Luke Missionary Baptist Church in Marianna, Florida.

Visitation will be Sunday, April 12, 2015, 4-7 PM in the M. Sue & Rodney D. Pittman Memorial Chapel, 5441 Cooper Street (located at the funeral home) Graceville, FL.

A life celebration will be held at 1:00 P.M., Monday, April 13, 2015 in St. Luke Missionary Baptist Church in Marianna, FL.

Interment will follow in the Orange Hill Cemetery, with Military Honors, under the directions of Christian Memorial Chapel of Graceville, Florida.

He is survived by his wife, Mrs. Sammie Lee Williams; one sister: Joyce (Joseph) Gayle; one daughter: Carlotta (Cory) Brown; two sons: Dr. Charles (Marla) Williams and Earl (Ronnie) Williams, Jr. thirteen grandchildren: DeMarcus Rollins, Courtney Rollins, LaKeisa Altidor, Petronia Rollins, Bryant Carter, Chentee’ (Ricky) Tyler, Courtney Jackson, Mory’ah Jackson, D’Mitri Williams, Kenyotta’ Brown, Jordan Williams, Savanah Combs and Vanessa Williams, four great grandchildren and a host of family, friends and loved ones. 

He was preceded in death by his mother, Louise Rockmore and his daughter, Earline Rollins.

The Glory of the Garden by Rudyard Kipling

Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,
Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,
With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;
But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.

For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,
You will find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all;
The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dungpits and the tanks:
The rollers, carts and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.

And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys
Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;
For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,
The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,
And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;
But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,
For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made
By singing:--"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,
While better men than we go out and start their working lives
At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.

There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,
There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.
But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,
For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,
If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,
You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees
That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,
So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray
For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!
And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!

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