Sunday Meetin’ Time: The Alrods

By Patricia McCullough Walston

Book One of Sunday Meetin Time left the Alrods sitting at their Thanksgiving table in 1939. Christmas and the New Year are just around the corner; a heavy snowstorm is brewing over the mountains.

It would be a miracle if Sandy Claus could find the Alrod farm. There is no money for gifts and yet, the Alrods will have The Best Christmas Ever in the Barn.

Five-year-old LeRoy is wearing a path back and forth from the window trying to get a glimpse of the reindeer landing. The oldest Alrod children, Billy Joe, and Sarah Louise are determined to make Christmas as happy as possible for the little ones. The younger children are sneaking to take bites from Sarah Louises poorly decorated cookies hanging on the tree. Many of the popcorn strings have more strings showing than popcorn.

Sarah Louise is quite the little Mama caring for the new baby. Papa and the others are helping all they can to make up for Mamas absence. The cast on Papas broken leg makes it difficult for him to get around. Billy Joe is taking care of the animals.

Medical bills are piling up; with a mortgage on the farm overdue. There havent been any offerings in the plate at church for Preacher Alrod in several weeks.

The Alrods feel blessed to have had such a resourceful Mama. Because of her hard work all summer long, she has a cellar filled with canned foods; her cabinets are lined with homemade jams and jellies. Papa had filled the smokehouse with as much meat as he could. Without those preparations, they would have nothing to eat.

Yet they were all looking forward to Night Watch Service on New Years Eve bringing in the New Year of 1940 in the little church on the hill.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490881447

Patricia McCullough Walston

Atlanta native Patricia Walston is a freelance writer, historian, genealogist, teacher, parent, and grandparent. She is all about family.     She has written award-winning articles published locally and worldwide. Her mentoring on family life is based on wisdom, experience, faith, and Biblical principles.  Patricia is a storyteller.

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Copyright © 2015 Patricia McCullough Walston.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

WestBow Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-8142-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8143-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-8144-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015908328

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/11/2015

Contents

About the Author

Disclaimer

Dedication from the Author

Church Covenant

Prologue: The Old Country Church

Introduction: The Preacher

Chapter One: A Changing World, A Changing America

Chapter Two: Disharmony in the Nation, Harmony in the Home

Chapter Three: Christmas of 1939 Coming Closer

Chapter Four: The Alrod’s Best Christmas Ever – In The Barn

Chapter Five: Baby Blues, A New Year, and A Little Tin of Aspirin

Chapter Six: A Knock at the Door

Chapter Seven: The Man in the Black Shiny Car

Chapter Eight: The Letter and the Stranger

Chapter Nine: Palms and Picture Drawing

Chapter Ten: Easter in the Mountains

Chapter Eleven: The KKK and the Circus Comes to Town

Chapter Twelve: The Circus Arrives in Town, Little Girl Lost

Chapter Thirteen: What Happened to Little Velma Alrod?

Chapter Fourteen: The Stranger Becomes a Friend, Lost but Found

Chapter Fifteen: Whatsoever does Whatsoever mean?

Chapter Sixteen: The Cabin

Chapter Seventeen: Papa and LeRoy Come to an Understanding

Chapter Eighteen: Herman’s Narrow Escape, Who Lives in the Cabin?

Chapter Nineteen: Al Capone’s Gang

Chapter Twenty: Mason Jars, Marbles, and More Problems for Hep

Chapter Twenty One: Home is Where the Heart is Found

Chapter Twenty Two: Annual Memorial Day Clean-Up

Chapter Twenty Three: The Revelation

Epilogue

The Leaves of our Family Tree

About the Author

This is the second book in this series following the first book titled,

Sunday Meetin’ Time, The Little Church on the Hill

Atlanta native, Patricia Walston is a free-lance writer, historian, genealogist, teacher, parent and grandparent. She is all about family and has written award-winning articles that have been published locally and worldwide online. Her mentoring on family life is based on wisdom, experience, faith and Biblical principles. Patricia is a story teller.

She was born in 1941, just eight months before the attack on Pearl Harbor. Blessed with a close relationship with many grandparents and great-grandparents, she learned firsthand how people lived and survived through turbulent and bleak times in America.

Patricia listened to their stories of the Good Ole days, not realizing at the time, they truly were the Good Ole times.

Both of her great-great-grandfathers fought in the Civil War. One was captured in the Battle of Atlanta and sent to a prisoner of war camp, and the other was seriously wounded in the Battle of Resaca in Gordon County, Georgia.

Both grandfathers registered for the draft during World War I. Her own father was drafted into the Army during World War II in 1943 while her mother worked in war plants packing supplies and parachutes for the American soldiers. Both of her parents were raised in their early lives on a farm.

Patricia wrote these books based on learned and experienced history. She had the great advantage of having godly women influence her life. Any of them could have been the Mama in Sunday Meetin’ Time.

Growing up in the country without modern conveniences and before television, and before the electronic age ruled the world, Patricia loved reading. Later she enjoyed the thrill of research and genealogy.

When she was about ten years old, her family moved to the city, and she discovered the public library. Books opened up a whole new world for her.

Raised in a strong Judeo-Christian environment, she became a Christian at a young age and has been involved in various ministries throughout her lifetime.

Eventually, she created her own ministry for women and children called Life Design. The premise of the group was to help women live Godly lives through mental, physical, and spiritual wellness.

For the past six years, she has been a prolific author writing over 2,000 articles for Atlanta Faith and Family Examiner. She has written for local newspapers and magazines as well. Her articles have been read all over the world. And, you can read her some of her articles on Examiner at http://www.examiner.com/faith-and-family-in-atlanta/patricia-walston

Like a sponge, she absorbed the stories of family folklore and family history; dating as far back as Ireland. She loved hearing the stories of her ancestors; how they lived; and how they did things.

The scripture where the older women were to teach the younger women was taken seriously by her mother and grandmothers. She was eager to watch and learn all that she could from these committed Christian women. She observed what they did as they went about their daily chores and routines raising large families. Today she is a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother to her own family.

These books, while originally a Sunday series in her newspaper column, emerged into full-length books which characterize those hard working, Christ-committed people who came before her. The roots of her Scot-Irish heritage spread deeply into her heart and soul. Sunday Meetin’ Time, was patterned after the small churches she often attended as a child. The stories were inspired by her personal observations and experiences.

Disclaimer

While things done and said in these books were actually authentic of the times, they are not recommended methods, ideas, or treatments intended for modern day usage.

These are merely depictions of the way people managed their life and times. None of these methods are recommended by the author.

These characters are vivid and loosely based on the author’s family and upbringing, but in no way are they patterned after anyone living or dead.

The names, like the characters, are fictional and not intended to reflect any person, living or dead.

Throughout, the King James Version of the Bible is used. It is in the public domain. The tenets of faith, shared in these stories, are in no way meant to disparage any faith, creed, religion, or sect.

Brand products and celebrities mentioned in these books are not endorsements of these products or people, but are intended to represent the times and activities of this era.

These books are intended as memory books for those who lived during these times; and a peek back into history for those who did not. The author has artfully portrayed the history of this time by blending it into real life situations. However, it is totally a work of fiction except the Holy Scriptures.

Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is, but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching. Hebrews 10:25"

Dedication from the Author

Dear God: All praise and honor belong to You, Lord, for the magnificent works of your hands. You have made such beauty, and You have loved us enough to share it. We are humbly thankful!

Lord, before readers continue the wonderful journey through this book about the Alrod Family, it is the author’s prayer that they will preface the reading with a personal prayer that God will open their hearts and minds so that they will be perceptive to the messages from God throughout the story. Amen

These books are dedicated to those of yesteryear who were dedicated to the building and maintenance of those original places of worship that so defined the beginning of our nation and influenced many future generations.

This endeavor would not have been possible if it had not been for those who came before me, to those who have shared my life, and to those who will after me. It is especially dedicated to my grandparents, parents, sisters, brothers and their families. With much love, it is dedicated to my children, Rhonda, Drew, Jennifer, and their families.

These books are also dedicated to the many pastors and leaders who planted spiritual seeds into my life. It is dedicated to others who came along afterward to water and cultivate those seeds to grow me into spiritual maturity. Much gratitude is due to those who prayed for me throughout the writing of these books; sometimes daily.

This is especially dedicated to the late Miss Annie Francis Flannigan, my fifth-grade teacher at Luckie Street School, who in 1953 predicted that one day I would write a book.

It is particularly dedicated to my husband, Ted A. Walston, Sr. who encouraged me over a lifetime of writing; and to Lynda Warf, my best friend, who pulled me kicking and screaming through the proofing of these books. Without her, these books could not have been published; and also my brother Roy McCullough, who would not let me quit. It is also dedicated to a beloved brother, Jim, who recently departed this life; and two lovely sisters Bettie and Dale.

But more than anything, this testimony is dedicated to those small groups of committed people who came before us; to whom we owe a debt that we can never repay… unless we pay it forward. These books are dedicated to families everywhere; for they hold the key to our nation’s survival.

Lord, let us be diligent in keeping the faith for those who come after us.

Know ye that the Lord He is God: it is He that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture. Psalm 100:3

Church Covenant

"Having been led, as we believe by the Spirit of God, to receive the Lord Jesus Christ as our Savior and, on the profession of our faith, having been baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, we do now, in the presence of God, and this assembly most solemnly and joyfully enter into covenant with one another as one body in Christ.

We engage, therefore, by the aid of the Holy Spirit to walk together in Christian love; to strive for the advancement of this church, in knowledge, holiness, and comfort; to promote its prosperity and spirituality; to sustain its worship, ordinances, discipline, and doctrines; to contribute cheerfully and regularly to the support of the ministry, the expenses of the church, the relief of the poor, and the spread of the Gospel through all nations.

We also engage to maintain family and secret devotions; to religiously educate our children; to seek the salvation of our kindred and acquaintances, to walk circumspectly in the world; to be just in our dealings, faithful in our engagements and exemplary in our deportment; to avoid tattling, backbiting, and excessive anger; to abstain from the sale of, and use of intoxicating drinks as a beverage; to be zealous in our efforts to advance the kingdom of our Savior.

We further engage to watch over one another in brotherly love; to remember one another in prayer; to aid one another in sickness and distress; to cultivate Christian sympathy in feeling and Christian courtesy in speech; to be slow to take offense, but always ready for reconciliation and mindful of the rules of our Savior to secure it without delay.

We moreover engage that when we remove from this place we will, as soon as possible, unite with some other church where we can carry out the spirit of this covenant and the principles of God’s Will."

Prologue: The Old Country Church

In book one of Sunday Meetin’ Time, we were reminded of the influence that early small churches had in America. Those early immigrants came to America and set the stage so that those who came behind could build on a firm foundation.

When these people came to America, and then scattered throughout the new land, they brought the old, old story of Jesus and how He came to redeem the world. They brought with them their culture, their language, their faith and beliefs which made them part of the melting pot of America.

Congregations met under shade trees and in barns until generation by generation they turned into the fine churches of today.

In those early beginnings, their houses of worship were small structures made from the rock and wood they found on the land where the church was built.

The building was a convenience, but they knew that the church was not a building, but the people. They had escaped from state churches in their homeland. They based their church teaching on the responsibility of man and his close relationship with God. As communities grew… so did the church. The one-time circuit rider was replaced by regular preachers who ministered to the flock.

Their minister had to be a man of God. He had to have received the Call of God for that particular church. Most of all, he had to be accepted and voted on by the congregation.

There were no assemblies, conferences, or conventions; they were on their own.

The beloved minister in this story, the Reverend Herman James Alrod, was also a farmer. He worked his own land just like the other farmers. He was part and parcel of all that they were. He was affected by the same things they all were. The dedicated men and women of the church shared in the upkeep and maintenance of the church, but the spiritual teaching rested fully on the shoulders of their preacher.

There were no paid staff members, organist, or nursery workers. Mamas kept their babies in their laps. Everything people did for the church they believed they were doing for God.

They were a strong and stubborn generation who carved a nation from the wilderness. What they didn’t have, they either made it or did without.

Dr. William S. Pitts immortalized one such early church in a song. In 1857, he happened upon a place that he felt in his soul would be the perfect spot for a church. Later one was built on the exact same spot.

His song, The Church in the Wildwood later became known as the Little Brown Church in the Vale. It was called that because it was painted brown. However, the color was not the significance of the small church, but the peace and serenity that it represented.

This story continues to be a work of fiction based on the lives of one such small congregation set in the late 1930’s and early 1940’s. Churches, such as the one in this story, have a long-standing heritage that has survived a hundred or more years.

Many of the older generation will reminisce and remember these churches from their childhood, and perhaps their grandchildren will remember hearing similar stories from those who have gone before.

In Book One, The Little Church on the Hill, we got to know the Alrod clan. Preacher Herman Alrod, also known as Papa, is the country farmer…turned preacher. The love of his life is Mama.

We got to know each of their seven children. There is Billy Joe and Sarah Louise, the oldest. There are the twins, Velma and Verna and LeRoy, who were the middle children. Then along came the last two babies, Little James and Baby Wilson.

We said good-bye to Grandpa, who had served in World War I, and to Granny Wilson, who had saved the lives of both Mama and Baby Wilson.

We laughed and were entertained by LeRoy and his antics…and got emotionally involved with the two oldest, Billy Joe and Sarah Louse, as they began facing the young adult side of life.

We got to know the members of the church, and those who lived in the small town that sprung up in 1850 beneath the foothills of a small mountain range. We were invited into their homes, their church, and their lives.

Book one opened with a discussion in modern times between a future Alrod descendant and a real estate broker who wants the old abandoned church torn down.

Book two picks up that storyline once again with some twists and turns with back flashes to those in our story and to all those characters what made this story possible.

We learned about Samuel Goodroe Alrod’s life in Ireland before arriving in New York as a penniless orphan. He meets Rachel, falls in love, and they travel to the valley along with some of the first settlers. Samuel and his wife, Rachel, were the first to settle on the Alrod farm. They donated the land for the little church on the hill to be built. We left the Alrods at the end of a very thankful Thanksgiving, and we are returning in time for Christmas 1939 and to catch up with the Alrods as they anticipate the new year of 1940.

The two volumes of Sunday Meetin’ Time is a continuing everything story. If you love history, it is here, if you love old time hymns, they are here. As you turn these pages, you will continue to be endeared by this large country family that lived in a time long ago. You will enjoy getting to know them even better.

Older generations will enjoy reading about a time from their past, and the younger ones can get a glimpse of how their ancestors managed to face hard times with their faith still intact. As you get deeper and deeper into the story, it will seem that you are living each event, moment by moment, with this endearing family as you wait for the next shoe to drop.

If you love mystery and intrigue, you will be mystified and spellbound; you will find those as well. But most of all if you love God and His Son, Jesus Christ, you will be blessed and perhaps yearn for a family and church like the Alrods.

Get comfortable and get ready for more fun and adventure with the Alrods in Book Two of Sunday Meetin’ Time as we delve further into the lives of this family…their faith, friends and their farm.

Catching up with Sunday Meetin’ Time from Book One:

It is 2015, and there is new excitement in the history class since young George Henry Alrod, Jr. became the new teacher. He is innovative and has a lot of enthusiasm for teaching American history, but he also has a deep love for his own family history. George, Jr., had been born in the valley but had been gone for some time. But now he was back.

Many decades before George Henry Alrod, Jr. returned to the valley, his ancestors came there to begin a new life. His fourth great-grandfather, Samuel Goodroe Alrod, came across the ocean from Ireland.

As a young lad only twelve years old, he buried both his parents there when they died during the cholera outbreak in 1832. Since he had been an only child and his parents had been tenement farmers on another man’s land, he was turned out after their deaths.

As a homeless twelve-year-old, he spent many years living in what was called the pore house, or more commonly called the workhouse.

He saw extremely hard times living in Ireland. He slept on a cold floor and ate corn mush. While sleeping on those cold hard floors, he had a dream… a dream of coming to America and owning his own land and raising horses. His dream did not become a reality quickly. It took a lot of hard work and skimping to earn enough money to pay for his passage to America.

He took employment anywhere he could find it. He would carefully squirrel away every coin that he could spare over his modest needs. He kept the coins in a little leather pouch that had belonged to his Da. That was the only thing he had that belonged to his father. He had a small, inexpensive brooch that had belonged to his mother. It was a gift given her by his Da on the day he was born. Those were his only possessions.

Each time he received a coin or two; he would put them in the leather bag. Then he would hide it so no one could ever find it. He often wore it tied around his neck with a leather string. The brooch inside was wrapped in a swatch of linen cloth. Inside there was a small photo of his parents made on their wedding day. His mother had closely trimmed and placed it inside the small brooch.

When he got downhearted, he would take the brooch out and think of his Mother trying to remember every detail about the way she looked, the way she talked and the loving way that she cared for him.

He often feared that his memories of her would fade, and he would forget some tiny detail that he wanted to cherish the rest of his life. Often he would put the leather pouch to his nostrils and take a deep breath. It still had a faint odor of the tobacco that reminded him of his father and the smell of his pipe.

While he loved and respected his Father, it was his mother who cared for him. She did for him her very best with the little to nothing she had. What he lacked in material goods was made up bountifully by her love.

He knew that every coin dropped into the leather pouch would bring him closer and closer to his dream. When he turned eighteen, he gained the favor of an overseer who was employed by the landlord who managed a large plantation in Northern Ireland.

The actual titleholder of the land and manor house resided in England. He often made the trip to Ireland to check on his holdings and would bring many guests with him. While he was there, he would host great, fancy balls.

The overseer allowed Samuel to sleep in the barn while doing odd jobs around the plantation. He had plenty to eat and listened to all the gossip and news that the guests brought with them from England, France, and Scotland. He enjoyed hearing the stories of these places and learned much about their history, but his dream never wavered. He wanted to go to America.

About the same time the colonist came to America from England in the early 1600s, plantations were being established in Northern Ireland as the immigrants from Scotland began to sail across the sea to occupy lands in and around Antrim in Ulster, Northern Ireland. Religious persecution abounded for both Protestants and Catholics on both sides of the Irish Sea.

Things began to stabilize by the 1700s but not before a hundred years or more of unrest. While Ireland had many established church buildings, mostly Catholic, there were a few small churches designated solely for Protestants. Many of the Scot-Irish, who had settled in Northern Ireland from Scotland, were Presbyterians.

Most of the people in Ireland did not own their land but lived on leased lands owned by others. As townlands began to form, and more people lived near one another, they began building small church buildings that were called meetin’ houses.

Because of poor economics and lack of resources, the Scot-Irish, as they were later called, began to migrate to America in the mid-1700s. Then in the early to mid-1800s a national crisis crippled Ireland…more so in Southern Ireland than in Northern Ireland. The little nation was already in constant turmoil with their wars and conflicts with England and internal conflicts between the Protestants and Catholics.

Many farmers had begun sowing potatoes on most of their land and were devastated when the potato disease soared across the land leaving a putrid odor as the crops rotted in the ground.

The potato disease traveled across the nation like an ill wind wreaking havoc as it absorbed one farm after the other. There were outbreaks of cholera causing the death of many thousands. Irish farmers who could no longer pay their leases were forced off the farms.

George, Jr.,’s fourth great-grandfather Samuel Goodroe Alrod buried his parents after they had died from the cholera. It took him years, but he eventually worked his way to America.

After arriving in New York in 1845, Samuel found work in a tavern and made for himself a makeshift tent dwelling out behind the pub. There his new life began in the new world.

It wasn’t until 1850 that he arrived to claim his new land in the valley with his wife Rachel and his only son, Henry. That 150-acre farm had remained in the care of a long line of Alrod farmers and preachers. Samuel was so thankful for his land, he felt led by God to set aside a portion of it to build a church. The chosen ideal place was on a little hill that rose just above the farmland below.

In the beginning, the little church on the hill had circuit-rider preachers who went from church to church preaching. They often had to officiate at weddings and sometimes funerals.

There came a time when James Goodroe Alrod, George’s second great-grandfather became the first Alrod pastor at the little church on the hill. After returning from World War I, where he had been wounded, he felt a tugging in his heart to do something to make the world a better and safer place for his family to live. While overseas, he also went to Ireland and cleared the brush from around his great-great grandparent’s graves and saw to it that a proper marker was placed there.

Back home, the old pastor had recently passed away, and they needed a preacher. James Alrod needed a mission. He continued to farm his land; growing corn as his grandfather Samuel had done. Samuel and Rachel had only one son named Henry, who was James’ father. He chose the city life over farming.

James knew little about his father, Henry. Henry had no love for the land like Samuel and left the farm at an early age. He and his wife Rebecca left their son, James, with Samuel and Rachel when he was but a little tyke. They raised him as their own child. Often James would forget that they were his grandparents for in reality to him they were his parents.

James married his sweetheart Sarah, and God blessed them with a boy they named Herman and a girl they named Pauline. Herman would follow in the footsteps of his father, James, both on the farm and in the church. After her marriage, Herman’s sister, Pauline, would follow her husband into the city.

The day came when James could no longer work the land, nor could he stand and preach before his beloved congregation. He knew that Herman loved the land and God. Herman also had a large family to feed and clothe, and the farm provided most of what they needed.

James had hoped and prayed that his son, Herman, would also take over the pastorate of the church as well. He grew up in the church and was loved by everyone. But James had to leave the call to preach up to God, to Herman, and to the congregation.

While James prayed, and the church committee was searching for a new minister, Herman filled in at the church for his father. The people had known Herman all of his life, and they also knew his life. He had a high school education, was a hard worker and knew the Bible as much as any layperson could. But most of all, they knew that he loved God, had been a good son and cherished his family. His character was above reproach.

On that special day in 1931, the pulpit committee stood in front of the congregation and announced that they would call Herman James Alrod to be their new minister.

It could have been no one else but Herman. He was not only voted in, but he also received a standing ovation when he accepted the pastorate in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Herman stood before the little body of believers along with his wife and two children. Little did they know that twins were on the way.

After their marriage, when his wife did not get pregnant right away, they went up to the little church on the hill above their farm and prayed and asked God for children. And answer that prayer, He did. They would eventually have seven children.

They named their first born William Joseph Alrod, and they called him Billy Joe. Not long after they would have a daughter, Sarah Louise, named after her two grandmothers, and then along came the first of huge surprises in the growing of their family. They had twin girls, Velma and Verna. Next, there came the challenge of their lives when LeRoy was born. He was never still; always running around and getting into things.

Mama often said she was so glad God had given her Billy Joe and Sarah Louse first because it took everyone to keep up with LeRoy. The twins were true images of one another and were like a pair of bookends. Where you found one, you would find the other. Everyone was pleased and relieved when little James was born. He was such a good baby and required little attention. He just always seemed to be happy and content.

Their last child George Peter Wilson was truly a miracle child. Mama had felt uneasy about that pregnancy for a long time and toward her time of delivery she felt she needed to visit an old friend of hers up on the mountain. Granny Wilson had been a midwife in her earlier years and had delivered Billy Joe and Sarah Louise. She was also an herbalist and knew just about every growing plant that God had given to the people for healing.

One late fall day, Mama felt she owed Granny a visit. She had recently lost her husband, Earl. He was the last of her family. She had buried her little girl who died at a young age with the measles. As gifted as Granny was at healing, there was just simply nothing could be done for her own child. They buried her below their little cabin on the side of the hill.

Not long after, they were notified that their son Pete had died in the World War. Neither of his parents wanted him to join, but they were proud that their son wanted to defend their country against the Germans who enticed America into the war by sinking American passenger ships. Peter George Wilson decided to join as the threat of an invasion came closer to home. He felt it was his duty to go and protect his country.

A message had been intercepted from Germany that was encouraging Mexico to invade America by promising to return all the lands back to them that had one time belonged to them.

Then the sad day came for the Wilson’s when they learned they had lost their last child to the war. While his body was never returned to the valley, his parents put together some of his favorite things; a special plaid flannel shirt, his fishing rod, and some other keepsakes and placed them in a coffin. They buried it beside the grave of his little sister.

When Earl died, that made three graves there. Granny was already way into old age and was simply biding her time until she would join them. She had been such an inspiration to everyone in the community and was well loved by all the folks at the little church on the hill.

Even though Mama had been feeling a little uneasy about the way she was caring what would be her last child, she decided she needed to take the walk up the path to visit Granny to check on her and to ask her advice about her pregnancy.

Thanksgiving was getting closer, and it wouldn’t be long before ole man winter would be creeping in as well. With Thanksgiving, a new baby coming, and Christmas on the heels of all of that, Mama knew she would be busy preparing for those special days in the Alrod family.

But somehow it was even more than those reasons. She felt a strong urge to seek Granny’s advice and support. She had lost both her Mother and Mother-in-law, and she felt she might need a little mothering for herself.

Shortly after her walk up the path to Granny’s cabin, a light snow began to fall. And just as she settled in for her visit with Granny Wilson, she went into labor.

The light snow made Herman pace the floor back and forth when he saw that the snow as not going to let up. He decided before it got any worse, and before it began to stick on the ground, he needed to drive the car up there to bring Mama back home.

About halfway around the curving roads that led to Granny’s cabin, he gave out gas. He had forgotten he had siphoned some of his gas out for a church member who was running low at the previous Wednesday night prayer meeting. Night fell, and it was black as pitch outside.

Papa ended up spending the night in his car; the children ended up spending the night at home alone. Mama and Granny spent the night preparing for George Peter Wilson Alrod to enter the world. That night brought one new infant soul into the world, and one sainted soul was returned to heaven. Granny had been experiencing chest pains for several days.

The baby was breech, and the lives of the mother and child were in her hands alone. However, the saintly woman that she was… she knew she was not alone. When Granny’s chest pains grew worse, and the baby still had not arrived… she got down on her knees and asked God to send an angel to help her; she knew no one else would be coming up the mountain.

When daylight broke, Herman left his car and started up the hill to the cabin, slipped in the snow and broke his ankle along with a huge gash in the side of his leg.

By the help of God and sheer determination, he was able to drag his injured leg the rest of the way up to the cabin. When Granny answered the knock at the door, there stood her angel… a mud covered, limping, half frozen angel named Papa.

Granny felt she could not save both the baby and Mama. In a weak whisper, Mama asked her to save the baby. The baby was breech and had already pushed through when out popped a little leg. Mama was hemorrhaging, and there was little time left before Granny had to react by instinct.

Granny told Papa to take hold of that wee little foot and pull with all of his might at her command. Papa had delivered many farm animals, but never in a million years did he ever imagine himself delivering his own child.

Granny straddled across Mama facing Herman at the foot of the bed, and she began pushing down on the baby. Mama was too weak to push anymore. Finally… out plopped a fine healthy, but tiny, baby boy.

Granny helped Papa to get back into the sitting room near the fire, threw another log on the fire and gave him a shawl to wrap around the baby. She put a spoon full of sugar in a cup of warm water. She told Herman when the baby started crying from hunger… he was to use the eye dropper to squeeze a few drops at a time into his tiny mouth.

Weak, sweating, and in pain, Granny went back in to tend to Mama. She took a straight back chair and turned it face down and put it on the bed underneath Mama’s legs to prop them up hoping that would stop the bleeding.

She continued to work with Mama until she was out of the woods. Mama fell into a deep sleep.

Back at home, Billy Joe had gotten worried that his parents had not returned. He rode one of the old mules into town and fetched Mr. Ferguson, the storekeeper. He agreed to drive up the mountain to see what had happened. Herman was never happier to see anyone in his life when he looked around to see him standing in the doorway of the cabin.

By the time Mr. Ferguson got in the door, there was a faint voice calling for help. She simply said, I think she is dead. Papa for a moment did not recognize Mama’s weak voice and feared he had lost her. Upon rushing into the room, Mr. Ferguson discovered that it was Granny who had died. He gently covered her with a blanket as she lay there on the floor at the foot of Mama’s bed.

Three days later Herman stood at the head of her grave and with deep emotions preached her funeral. Finally at last, she was reunited with her family.

To honor Granny and the son she had lost, Mama and Papa agreed that they should name the baby George Peter Wilson Alrod. For years, his family would simply call him ’Will." LeRoy had dubbed him with that name, and it stuck until one day many years later George Henry Alrod, Jr., would call him Grandpa Will. Grandpa Wilson would be the last Alrod minister at the little church on the hill.

While George, Jr., had only heard stories about those who came before his grandfather from his father, George Henry, Sr., he felt that he had known each of them from the stories that had been handed down from 1850 to the present day in 2015.

Mama always knew that her last child would be special in a different way than her other children… not that they were not all special… but she felt that George Peter Wilson Alrod would have