Aldine Stewart is a woman of deep and abiding faith, who believes there's a reason God has kept her on this earth all this time.

She turns 100 today, Easter Sunday, which seems to be an extra blessing, in a lifetime of blessings, for this church mother, this mother of a pastor, this woman who says she was saved by God's grace — and the quick reflexes of her own mother — when she was a mere baby.

She was perhaps a year old when her mother was walking outside, holding Aldine. Her mother was startled by a cloudburst, and Aldine fell out of her arms. At the last second, her mother grabbed hold of her tiny foot, catching her before she fell into the sewer. Her baby bonnet spiraled into the depths, but Aldine was safe.

Saved, she believes, for a lifetime of service to God.

"The Lord kept me here all that time," she said. "I know I'm here for a purpose."

Aldine Stewart, known to four generations of her descendants as "Mom," and to her church family as "Mother Stewart," was honored at a 100th birthday party at Shady Maple Smorgasbord on March 31. Some 100 people, including some prominent black clergy members, gathered to celebrate the life of the woman whom they believe is the oldest living African-American woman in Lancaster County.

Born into a world in which blacks were not afforded the same civil rights as whites, she thought she'd never live to see a black president in the White House. Now, among her birthday cards, is one from President Barack Obama and first lady Michelle Obama, lauding her life as "an important part of the American story."

Today, in the city of Lancaster, it's Aldine E. Stewart Day, by proclamation of Mayor Richard Gray, in recognition of her "exemplary life."

And what a life it's been.

She was born on April 8, 1912, in Chambersburg. She came to Lancaster when she was about 5, and was raised by her grandmother. "She was a religious person, and I'm grateful for how she brought me up," Aldine Stewart said.

When she was in her 20s, she sang bass in a gospel quartet called the Palms of Victory. A tiny woman, she still likes to startle people by asking them, "How do you do?" in a deep, rich voice that sounds like the rumble of thunder.

"Not to mention her laugh," said one family member. "She sounds like she's a 300-pound man."

Born Aldine Gates, she married Earl Stewart, a railroad worker, seven decades ago. Her grandmother taught her to cook and bake — she still has her grandmother's rolling pin. She put her skills to use as a domestic worker, cooking for other people's families, as well as her own. In the1950s, she worked as an elevator operator at Hager's department store in downtown Lancaster.

She and Earl had four children: two boys and two girls. Her eldest son was born with a heart defect and died soon after he was born. "I always felt that's the way God wanted it," she said. "When he took my baby, he knew what was best."

She weathered her husband's death in 1984 with a similar grace. "We went through thick and thin but we had a good life," she said.

Her two daughters are Earline Owens, of Lancaster (whose name is a blend of "Earl" and "Aldine"), and the Rev. Odessa Coder, pastor of St. Paul's Church of God in Christ on South Queen Street.

Their brother, William Stewart, died unexpectedly, of natural causes, at the age of 60 in 2003. He was a member of a singing group called the Catalinas.

At his mother's 100th birthday party, his music played softly in the background.

No detail, it seemed, was overlooked in the planning of Aldine Stewart's birthday party. Her children and grandchildren held meetings to make sure it would be an event befitting the matriarch they so clearly adore.

Pots of violets adorned the tulle-draped head table, because Aldine Stewart loves flowering plants. Photo collages were scattered around the banquet room, showing her with a diapered baby on a bed, kissing her husband by a Christmas tree, posing with the other members of the Palms of Victory.

Photo after photo showed her dressed to the nines for church, wearing magnificent hats — crowns of glory, indeed — adorned with feathers, bows and satin roses.

To this day, she makes her own church hats.

"I rip old hats apart and make them over," she said, matter-of-factly. "It keeps me busy."

Milton Jones, a former member of Rev. Coder's church, said that whenever Aldine Stewart enters the house of God, she comes in "correct," dressed from head to toe in the finest outfits, accessorized occasionally with gloves. "You put the 's' in sharp!" he told her, to cheers from the partygoers.

She is the senior "church mother" at St. Paul's Church of God in Christ, a title that African-American churches traditionally have bestowed on older, wise and godly women in their congregations. Milton Jones told the party guests that when "Mother Stewart" speaks, he tells those around him to be quiet, to give her reverence, because she has "a lot to say."

In her role as church mother, she counsels young women about how to lead upright lives, how to be good wives and mothers, how to dress properly for church.

If a woman comes to church immodestly attired, she may need to let her know, but she said she is gentle when delivering the message. "You don't want to hurt someone's feelings," she said.

She used to make lace-trimmed "lap robes" for the church. If a woman was wearing a too-short skirt, she'd be given a lap robe to cover her knees when she sat down in the pews, and propriety would be assured.

Her own desire to dress well started early, she said.

"When I was really young, I'd see old people and think, 'Why do they dress so bad?' " she related, with a merry laugh. "I'd think, 'If I ever get old, I'm not going to dress like that.' "

For her party, she wore an elegant silver-and-black animal-print suit and a glittering necklace. Her silver bob was pinned with a jeweled barrette. "She's a star!" one of her grandchildren proclaimed, as she made her grand entrance into the banquet room with a mischievous shake of her cane.

Her daughters, her grandchildren, and her dozens of great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, are among her biggest admirers. They tell of how she can rewire a lamp like an electrician. She crochets quilts and bathroom accessories for family members. She is a skilled seamstress, who just made curtains to match a new bedroom set about a month ago.

Earl Douglas Stewart, one of her grandchildren, pointed to the fine stitches on the sleeves of his suit. "She's the one who hemmed my suit," he revealed.

According to her family, she can mend anything.

"She's like the black MacGyver," said her 16-year-old great-grandson Ryan Coder.

Ryan describes her as "just a wonderful, loving person," a "role model for men and women," someone who's "bursting the limits all of the time."

His brother, Randy, who's 20, said he and a cousin used to steal her wigs and wear them around the house, and she'd just laugh. He said that when he's holding her hand, as they walk somewhere, she often remarks on how cold her hands are, and then she tells him, "'Cold hands lead to a warm heart—that's because you're in it.'"

To hear her family tell it, a century of living hasn't diminished her energy. "She's like Eveready — nonstop," says Aldine Owens, daughter of Earline, and her grandmother's namesake.

"I feel great," Aldine Stewart said. "I don't feel 100."

Quoting from a famous gospel song, Rev. Coder said her mother is turning 100 because "99 1/2 won't do."

Aldine Stewart still keeps track of the collections at church. She still cooks — on Saturday, she made the family's Easter ham with brown sugar and cloves — and does her own laundry, though, she said, "The last five years, I've slowed up."

Five years ago, she made 35 sweet-potato pies for a church dinner, and decided that after a lifetime of baking for the church, enough was enough.

Her grandchildren rave about her biscuits, cakes, apple dumplings, peach cobbler and pies. She'd make elaborate dinners, from scratch, and charge family members a penny for each year of her age. She'd give the money to church.

Grandson Randy Coder, father of Ryan and Randy, described his grandmother as a "phenomenal woman," who reared children and grandchildren alike in her city home.

"She's a mother to all of us," said John Owens, son of Earline. "We were all raised as brothers and sisters."

The elder Randy Coder calls his own mother "Mommy," to distinguish her from his grandmother, "Mom." "The 'grand' is out —we already know how great she is," he said.

When someone was sick, and staying in her house, "She would bring a tray up to your room, treat you like you were royal," Jodine Owens, Earline's eldest daughter, recalled.

"You forgot you were sick," her sister, Aldine Owens, put in.

The love came with discipline, though: The children in her care were expected to mind her. The kids all had chores. Homework had to be done, prayers had to be said. No one wanted to disappoint "Mom." Both the boys and girls were taught how to cook.

"We were never bored," Jodine Owens said.

"And we were never hungry," Earl Douglas Stewart laughed.

Florence Stewart, who later would become Earl Douglas Stewart's wife, said she just had escaped from a troubled marriage when she first met Aldine Stewart. She had two small children, and had lost her home and her way. Her pastor, Rev. Coder, told her, "You need to feel a mother's love, and I know just the person who can help you."

Rev. Coder sent her to stay with her mother.

Florence lived with her for two weeks. Aldine Stewart made her breakfast every morning, packed her lunch for work, and had dinner waiting at the end of the day. "I was in a bad spot. I just felt like the world was tearing me apart," Florence Stewart remembered. "She said, 'Everything is going to be alright.' She just mothered me. ... I really became strong after that."

Said Jodine Owens, of her grandmother: "She's a woman who has given really everything and asked for nothing in return."

"She's always been an inspiration to all of us," said the Rev. Louis A. Butcher Jr., a close family friend who is pastor of Bright Side Baptist Church and a Sunday News columnist.

"I like to make people happy," Aldine Stewart said, simply.

"She does that, all the time," said her daughter Earline Owens. "She's been a blessing to all of us."

Rev. Coder said her mother and father taught them that if they could love, they could get past any hurt, anything. "They raised us up in the spirit of the Lord," she said.

On this Easter Sunday, as she does every Sunday, Aldine Stewart will go to church and give thanks to God for her life, and her family. "I just feel so blessed. I really do," she said. "God didn't have to do it —but he made me so happy."

Contact Sunday News staff writer Suzanne Cassidy at scassidy@lnpnews.com.