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Jennifer Gwen Stroud
April 20, 1972 – March 11, 1994
Hole #3 is dedicated to Gwen Stroud.
Below is a poem written by her mother, Mary Franks
 

"SHE LIVES"

 

She lives in the breath of spring and the cool night air

 

She lives in warm summer breezes at the lake and in the bright sunbeams bursting through the dark thunder clouds

 

She lives in the laughter of children playing in the park and barking dogs with wagging tails

 

She lives in the purr of the kitty snuggled on your lap

 

She lives in the vivid colors of the rainbow’s arch and in the hottest pink sunset

 

She lives in the moist snowflake that sticks on the tip of your nose

 

She lives in the candles lit to celebrate another year

 

She lives in the fragrance of a fresh bouquet of flowers that graces your kitchen table

 

She lives in butterfly kisses, hugs so warm and cuddly, and the smile of a dear friend

 

She lives in the sparkling waters of a mountain brook and in the smooth rocks that make the water dance

 

She lives in the hustle and bustle of busy city streets and in the peaceful countryside where the cattle and horses graze and the birdies sing tweet, tweet, tweet

 

She lives in the excitement of winning a hard fought game and she’s with you if it’s a loss that you feel

 

She lives in the gurgle of a baby’s first coo and in every “first” or milestone

 

She lives in the arms of a mother’s embrace and the sweet tears trickling down grandma’s face

 

She lives in the wisdom of grandpa’s eyes and in the comfort of dad’s easy chair

 

She lives in modern technology when sister’s on the cell or surfing the internet – even when emails are sent at the sound of the mouse click

 

She lives in the wonderful smells that fill up a home when a special meal’s being prepared – the kind that makes your mouth water just waiting to chow down

 

She lives in the first crisp tee shot that breaks the dawn's silence and in the welcomed clatter from holing a crucial putt

 

She lives in the magic that each new season brings; the first buds that blossom on the Dogwood trees, hot sunny days and sweet honeysuckle scents, the blanket of Autumn colors and swirling leaves, and the glistening snow on a frosty winter’s morn.

 

She’s there at every family gathering and all the holidays, too – holding hands for the Thanksgiving blessing, baking pumpkin pies, filling Christmas stockings, and with hand on heart, saying the Pledge of Allegiance as old Glory passes by

 

She’s with you when you say your prayers and beside you as the sun rises on Easter morning

 

She lives in the spirit of caring, helping others or reaching out to lift up a friend

 

Work or play, rainy days, happy times or sad, whether things are going well or going pretty bad, in sickness or in health, just like the wedding vows, you feel her with you, you know that she is there

 

She floats in the soft melody of a love song you hum to yourself and dances on the beach as the ocean tide rolls in – you can hear her whisper in the sea shell you put up to your ear

 

Morning walks, hiking trails, bicycling just for fun, green grass, tall trees, majestic mountain peaks, bountiful gardens, Carolina blue skies, starry nights, harvest moon– she lives in all of these

 

She’s with you in all your travels whether the ride is bumpy or smooth

 

She outshines the glitter and glitz of Vegas’ neon signs and she’s in the quiet fog that settles in over the Bay

 

She soars with the eagles over the desert canyons

 

She lights the way through the darkest night

 

She’s free from all earthly constraints and cares

 

She’s love, joy, peace, hope and all things beautiful

 

She’s my daughter, my life, my friend, the most precious of God’s gifts

 

I will not cry because she is with me always and she lives within my heart. 

 

This poem was written by Mary Franks in loving memory of her daughter, Gwen Stroud, and dedicated to all who have lost a loved one, especially the loss of a child.