By Alanah Percy
Gordon College News Service
May 8, 2013
(This column appeared May 11, 2013, in the print and online editions of The Salem News.)
(This column appeared May 11, 2013, in the print and online editions of The Salem News.)
While most kids have memories of sleepovers with friends, I
remember sleepovers at my grandma’s house until I was16. Our days were full of
fresh food, lemonade and stories of her life on the farm in Alabama with 12
brothers and sisters.
One of our favorite projects was gardening. We tore open small
bags of seeds that said
‘cucumber,’ ‘squash,’ ‘watermelon’ and ‘tomato,’ marveled at the various
colors and shapes of wire for the garden’s perimeter. Then we’d grab three good
shovels, the sprinkler and of course a few old fashion southern sun hats.
“Let’s go fool around with this ol’ garden,” Grandma would
say. I couldn’t wait for the
moment when the barren dirt would spring with life and colorful fresh
vegetables would emerge. Grandma’s eyes filled at the sight and I always wondered
why it meant so much to her.
Years later I realized she was remembering life in the south
as a sharecropper, when she and my grandfather were forced to turn over part of
their garden’s harvest to a landowner in exchange for land.
During this Mother’s Day season, I am reminded of my grandma’s
compassion and tenacity, qualities that have shaped my own personality and
strengthened my family. Her mother, my great grandmother, didn’t have much
money but did the best she could to encourage her kids to value education and
trust God with everything. Growing up in segregated Alabama, Grandma witnessed senseless
violence and racism that prevented her from experiencing simple pleasures like purchasing
a Coke from the local store. Two of her siblings died from heart attacks in
their twenties and one drowned.




