Porch Sitting, Rocking, and Thinking

By K. L. Smith

Porch Sitting, Rocking, and Thinking is a collection of my random thoughts and memories. God is leading me to write this book. I do not know the reason and I may never know. I have always left it up to God to lead me through life. I have nine published books, and I know that God had a big hand in my writing all nine of them. After my ninth book was published, I thought that would be my last one. At my advanced age, I thought nine books were enough, and I felt I was too old to keep writing. There is a story behind why I felt the pressure to write another book. It came in a dream of my sister, Theresa. My sister died in February of 2017. I believe that our loved ones can send messages from beyond the grave in various ways. Dreams are the best media for keeping love alive.

All of my life I have had vivid dreams that seemed real. Strange and unusual things happen in my dreams. Strange and unusual things happen in my life. I was raised by a very superstitious mother who had prophetic dreams. My head and heart are filled with memories of so many things in life that my mother told me. After the dream of my sister, a series of unusual events occurred in my life. My sister kept nagging me in various ways. God kept nudging me to write by planting seeds for my tenth book. I resisted for months. I finally accepted the fact that I will not be through writing until God decides that I am through.

My book is written in no particular order. As the stories came into my mind and heart, they flowed through my fingers onto the pages of the book. Each chapter is a stand-alone story that can be read randomly just as it is written. Each chapter is a piece of my life and heart. I pray that my stories and ramblings will stoke memories and bring pleasure to anyone who reads them. I am thankful for the people and the events that make up the days of my life. I am incredibly grateful for the life God has allowed me to live.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798892431309

Book preview

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Porch Sitting, Rocking, and Thinking

K. L. Smith

ISBN 979-8-89243-129-3 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89243-130-9 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by K.L. Smith

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Books by Kay Lewis Smith

In the pen name of K. L. Smith

Life Behind the Train Station

Life on Heartsville Farm

Gemmy's Dreams

Gardenia Lane

Getting Past the Tears

Please-Don't-Rain Suitcase

The One Who's Not with Us

All I Have Is Me

Life's Dance

Porch Sitting, Rocking, and Thinking

To porches, rocking chairs, and memories. Many blessings to all who have managed to live long enough to reach old age. Best wishes and prayers for the offspring of my generation.

Chapter 1

A Nickel and Eight Pennies from Heaven

Chapter 2

Reminiscing on the Porch

Chapter 3

Happy Little Ragamuffin

Chapter 4

A Fairy Tale

Chapter 5

Do Not Worry

Chapter 6

Christmas in July

Chapter 7

The Little Boys That No One Wanted

Chapter 8

Smoke That Cigarette

Chapter 9

It's Nice to Remember

Chapter 10

Looking for a Bride

Chapter 11

To Live in Peace

Chapter 12

Life Is Better with Color

Chapter 13

Are Weeping Willow Trees a Blessing or a Curse?

Chapter 14

Time Has a Way of Getting Away from Us

Chapter 15

You Cannot Pour from an Empty Cup

Chapter 16

I Am Not One to Judge

Chapter 17

God Will Take Care of You

Chapter 18

Simple Pleasures

Chapter 19

He Sang with His Last Breath

Chapter 20

Bright Black Cherry Red Lips

Chapter 21

There Is Room in the World for All of Us

Chapter 22

Creeks, Ditches, and Mud Puddles

Chapter 23

Sarah's Tangled Hair

Chapter 24

A Smile Is Sometimes a Mask

Chapter 25

History of Family Marriages

Chapter 26

The Truth Is Not Always What You Think It Is

Chapter 27

The Taxman Cometh

Chapter 28

Times Are Changing

Chapter 29

Growing Up with Neighbors

Chapter 30

Adapting to a New Normal

Chapter 31

He's a Grown Boy

Chapter 32

The Trouble Tree

Chapter 33

A Hurricane and a Funeral

Chapter 34

Beautiful Outhouse

Chapter 35

Sweet-Smelling White Feathery Angel Wing Blooms

Chapter 36

Family Reunion in Milwaukee

Chapter 37

Storm Watcher and Worrier

Chapter 38

Pages of My Memories

Chapter 39

Special Privileges

Chapter 40

Trains, Porches, Swings, and Alleys

Chapter 41

Apples and Dreams

Chapter 42

Zero Tolerance

Chapter 43

Stay in a Safe Area

Chapter 44

What Is So Funny?

Chapter 45

I Don't Ever Get to Go Anywhere

Chapter 46

Greed Is an Ugly Thing

Chapter 47

Life Is What It Is

Chapter 48

God's Gifts

Chapter 49

Where We Were on September 11, 2001

Chapter 50

Remembering Pete

Chapter 51

Little Things Mean a Lot

Chapter 52

Desperate Need for Term Limits

Chapter 53

The Pitiful Old Man on the Boathouse

Chapter 54

Our Second Childhood

Chapter 55

Where Does It All Come From?

Chapter 56

It Is Still God's World

Chapter 57

I Know What Hatred Feels Like

Chapter 58

Looking for Meaning

About the Author

Books by Kay Lewis Smith

In the pen name of K. L. Smith

Life Behind the Train Station

Life on Heartsville Farm

Gemmy's Dreams

Gardenia Lane

Getting Past the Tears

Please-Don't-Rain Suitcase

The One Who's Not with Us

All I Have Is Me

Life's Dance

Porch Sitting, Rocking, and Thinking

To porches, rocking chairs, and memories. Many blessings to all who have managed to live long enough to reach old age. Best wishes and prayers for the offspring of my generation.

Chapter 1

A Nickel and Eight Pennies from Heaven

All of my life I have had vivid dreams and dreams that feel real. Strange things happen in my dreams. Strange things happen in my life. I dreamed of my deceased sister, Theresa. We had a delightful visit in my dream. She told me that she was proud of me for writing about our childhood. She said, Katy Belle, you need to get busy writing your next book. Don't let time run out on you. I told her that I was too old to write anything else. When the dream ended, my sister out of nowhere distinctly said the word trash. My eyes opened with the word trash echoing in my sister's voice tumbling in my mind. I searched my mind to determine why Theresa ended the dream with the word trash.

To dream of trash is an indication that things discarded may still have value. It signifies a reservation or hesitancy to pursue some path. Projects put on the back burner may need to be pulled forward and carried out. That was puzzling. What have I discarded that may still have value? What project have I put on the back burner that needs to be carried out?

I stumbled to the kitchen for my morning coffee still wondering about my dream. When I turned on the kitchen light, my eyes fell upon a nickel and eight pennies lying in front of the Keurig. The nickel was at the top of the coins. The pennies were arranged in chronological order by year. The year on the nickel was 2014. The years on the pennies were 1971, 1981, 1984, 1996, 2012, 2013, 2015, and 2017.

My first thought was that for some reason Frank left the coins on the kitchen counter. He is the only other person in the house. Then I realized that Frank would never have taken the time to arrange the coins in any special order. Having been raised by a very superstitious mother who had prophetic dreams, I know that finding a nickel is a sign to live more freely, loosen your grip on things that are stable and safe, and take a few risks. The very presence of finding a nickel is a divine sign of support. You have nothing to fear. All will be well.

All the coins were arranged heads up foretelling good luck. The heads-up coins also carry the message, In God We Trust. I most certainly do trust in God. My mother always told us that to find a penny was a message from heaven that someone up there was thinking about you. That's the message that I want to believe because I, too, am thinking about my loved ones in heaven. I can use all the good luck that can possibly be sent my way. Now I've got to determine what I have discarded that still has value or what put off project needs to be completed. I'm going to keep these coins because I believe them to be lucky. They must be coins from heaven. Where else could they have come from?

The numbers thirteen and seventeen have always been significant in my life. The nickel and eight pennies totaled thirteen cents. Lucky thirteen! The lot number of the land I am sitting on right now is thirteen. In 1956 at the age of nine, I picked number thirteen as my lucky number because I had found that many things that I considered lucky had occurred on the thirteenth day of the month. Although the number thirteen is considered unlucky by many people, I have found that to be untrue in my life. I met one of my best childhood friends on January 13, 1951. In 1954, while chopping weeds out of our cornfield, I found a 1913 fifty-cent piece. That was a significant amount of money for a seven-year-old. In April 1956, on Friday the thirteenth, I found thirteen dollars, two fives, and three ones, in a crumpled-up wad blowing around in a dust devil by the Big Ditch. I decided then and there that thirteen was my lucky number.

Many things too numerous to list in my life have been associated with the number thirteen. We bought our lot at Lake Gaston on October 27, 1990. The lot number is number thirteen. I met my husband on June 13. I married him six months later on December 17. Seventeen then became another significant number to me. I went to work at Southern Bell telephone company on July 19 or 07/19. Adding the individual numbers 7+1+9=17. I was assigned the number seventeen as my operator number. When I was promoted to a service representative, my service order number was seventeen.

These two numbers have continued throughout my life to be significant for me. Age is just a number. I am seventy-six years old. The individual numbers added, 7+6=13. We could play with numbers all day. I believe that each of us has significant numbers that are associated with our lives. I believe that mine are thirteen and seventeen.

As I sipped my coffee, I searched my mind trying to make sense of the dream. I went outside to open the gate. I was surprised to see a double rainbow extending from the branches of an oak to the front of our detached garage. I had never seen anything like this before and went back into the house to get my camera. I knew Frank would not believe me without a picture to prove what I saw. I was concerned that the rainbow would be gone when I came back with the camera, or that it may not show up in the picture. I was happy to see the rainbow still there when I returned. I took several pictures. I checked the pictures and the rainbow was very clear. I had my proof to show Frank.

Rainbows appearing in unusual places and hanging lower than normal is a positive sign of hope, new beginnings, and transformation. It is a gift from God to the individual seeing it. The rainbow is a reminder of the infinite possibilities that come with living. Seeing the rainbow gave me a warm and satisfying feeling.

I walked under the rainbow and continued toward the gate. As I passed the garage, I stopped in my tracks as my eyes fell upon a green orb of light hovering in one of our maple trees. It was the size of the back tire of a farm tractor. I blinked my eyes several times and stood in awe of the green orb. Inside the green orb, it looked like one of my sister Theresa's painted gourd birdhouses. I knew there was no gourd hanging in that tree. I own several of Theresa's beautifully painted gourds. I cherish them and hold them as too precious and beautiful to hang outside. I took several pictures of the green orb.

I know that orbs of light are thought to be visiting angels from heaven with a spiritual message. They are God's messengers and our guardians. I sensed that the presence of the gourd within the orb involved Theresa. I asked aloud, Theresa, what are you trying to tell me?

Later in the week, I was still pondering over these out-of-the-ordinary things that were happening. I started cleaning my hutch in the dining room. I removed everything from the top of my hutch to dust and polish it. After I had cleaned everything, I started putting everything back on the hutch. I have always kept two of Theresa's painted gourds on my hutch. One has purple bunches of grapes with green grape leaves. The other one is my favorite of all her painted gourds. It has beautiful red male cardinals and red roses painted on it. The cardinal gourd refused to stand up on the top of the hutch. It has been standing on the top of my hutch for many years. I tried to set it up several times. I tried bracing it against other things on the hutch. It was as if somebody kept laying it down.

I said, Theresa, stop it! What is it that you want to tell me? I need to get busy and do not have time to play with you right now!

When I could not get the cardinal gourd to stand on the top of my hutch, I tried to set it in several other places in my house. It would not stand upright anywhere. I laughed and said, Okay, Theresa, you win. Where do you want me to put this gourd? I am not going to stand here holding it all day. Maybe I can hang it up somewhere.

I got a hook and started looking around for a place to hang the gourd. I realized that I needed to get through cleaning my dining room. I said, I'll hang this thing at my computer desk and worry about where to put it later. Theresa, in my opinion, this is the prettiest gourd that you painted, but you surely picked the worse-shaped gourd to paint your cardinals on!

I hurriedly hung the gourd at my computer desk without much ado. I finished cleaning my dining room. I went back to the gourd to try and find a better spot for it. I could not get the hook on the gourd to budge from the slatted shelve. I said, Well, I guess this is where you want it, Theresa. It is sticking out like a sore thumb there, but at least it's not falling down.

I heard something in my back bedroom. I went to the bedroom to see what was making the noise. A snowman plaque that Theresa painted for me was standing up in the bedroom window. I did not put it there. The snowman plaque usually stands on the dresser until I take it to my great room at Christmas. When Theresa gave it to me, she said, Katy Belle, this will be pretty on your white gate at Christmas. To which I responded, It's too nice to put outside. I'll enjoy it inside. It'll stay pretty longer inside.

She said, I painted it for you with your fence in mind. If the weather causes it to fade, I'll paint you another one. It's yours to do with as you please, but that snowman is begging to go outside to hang on your fence.

When I thought back to that conversation, I laughed. I thought that surely, she did not expect me to hang the snowman plaque outside now. It is summer. It would be so out of time and place. I went outside to look at the beautiful flowers blooming in the yard.

A neighbor came by and asked, Are you working on a new book?

I answered, I'm not sure that I will write another book. At my age nine is enough. It takes a lot out of me to write a book. The writing part is easy. It's the editing part that will kill you. Right now, I am enjoying painting a few things. I have painted an angel, three rams, and a pig. I enjoy painting, it relaxes me.

He said, Oh no, you can't stop writing. You need to keep writing. It will keep your mind sharp. I believe as long as you are working your noodles, you won't get dementia. You have a gift that God has not given to everyone. You need to share that gift.

A friend called to tell me she was enjoying my most recently published book. She asked, What are you writing now?

I answered, I am not writing anything now. I may not write any more books.

She said, I think you need to keep writing. Please don't stop writing. I have enjoyed all of your books.

I thought about it. Maybe that is what Theresa is trying to tell me. Maybe a writing project needs to be pulled from the back burner and carried out and shared with anyone who wants to read it. Maybe the years on the pennies are calling me to continue writing about the past.

I went out to the porch and pulled a rocking chair to the end of the porch shaded by our graceful elm tree. I love that beautiful tree. I sat down and enjoyed porch sitting, rocking, and thinking. I thought, That would make a wonderful title for a book—Porch Sitting, Rocking, and Thinking. As I looked at the blue skies and the beautiful blue waters in Lake Gaston, I decided to take a picture of this beautiful day from our porch. When I saw the picture, I smiled. I decided that this was the cover picture for my next book. It fit the title perfectly.

I decided to get started on my next book. That solves the meaning of Theresa's word trash and the project that needs to be pulled from the back burner and completed. My sister, Theresa, was always a very creative person. She wrote poetry and painted some beautiful things. I have a few of her painted creations. I only have one of the many poems that she wrote. I plan to put her poem in this book that I am writing now. God will lead me to add Theresa's poem to the appropriate place among my memories and ramblings.

With the help of God, Theresa sent several messages to me encouraging me to keep writing: the dream, the double rainbow, the green orb of light with the gourd inside, Theresa's cardinal gourd that refused to stand on my hutch any longer, and the cardinal gourd refusing to be removed from my computer desk. It took a lot of hints before I understood the message. The title of my next book was handed to me before I wrote the first words of the book. The book cover picture is already decided.

I still did not know how the traveling snowman plaque was involved. It did not take long to make a connection. When I went back into the house, I passed a gourd snowman that Theresa had painted. I bought six of these snowmen painted Carolina blue and white with the letters UNC in 2013 from Theresa. They were all painted the same. I bought them to give as Christmas gifts.

In 2013, I talked frequently with Theresa on the telephone, but due to her busy schedule and my working twelve-hour night shifts as a registered nurse, we did not visit that often. Theresa had married her third husband, and I had not met him. I vaguely remembered him from church when we were children and knew that he was presently a gospel singer. She called to let me know that the UNC snowman gourds and all the other things that I ordered from her were ready. Due to our time schedules, we decided to meet in Wilson, North Carolina at Cracker Barrel for lunch on December 13, 2013. She and her new husband would bring my order. Her first husband died in 2012. They were married 23 years before they were divorced. Her second husband died in 1996 and her third husband died in 2015. Her three husbands died in three of the years on the pennies. Maybe Theresa wants me to tell more of her story.

I remembered that I had given four of the gourd snowmen for Christmas in 2013. I had two extra ones. I put two of the UNC snowmen wrapped in plastic on the top shelf in my closet and forgot about them until now. I believe that Theresa's message was that these two snowmen need to come out of my closet and be given to someone. I will figure out who to give them to. Maybe Theresa will guide me in that decision.

I sat down at my computer and started typing. It was as if God was putting the words in my fingertips to flow onto the pages. It was last week when I began writing my tenth book. I am about one-third through. It took me a long while to get the message, but I have finally accepted the fact that I will not be through writing until God decides that I am through.

Frank told a friend that I started writing my tenth book. She purchased all nine of my published books. She was excited for me. She is younger than both of our children. Our friend is a very sweet and caring young woman. She is a high school librarian. She and her husband are here at the lake part-time. I am always happy when they are here. A house without its family is a sad house. I do not like for any house to not have people living in it. Our younger friend feels that we all need to keep our minds active to avoid dementia. I believe she is right. I value her opinions.

God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another. Do you have the gift of speaking? Then speak as though God himself were speaking through you. Do you have the gift of helping others? Do it with all the strength and energy that God supplies. Then everything you do will bring glory to God through Jesus Christ. All glory and power to him forever and ever! Amen.

—1 Peter 4:10–11

Chapter 2

Reminiscing on the Porch

It's nice on the porch this morning. There is a gentle summer rain falling. The coffee's hot. We have gray cloudy skies, wind chimes, rocking chairs, birds singing in the rain, God's love and blessings, and a delicious breeze blowing! With all these gifts from God, what more could anyone ask for?

I am sitting on our side porch this morning because of the rain. Our side porch, or winter porch, catches the morning sun on a winter's day. It shields us from the cold winds blowing off the lake. It's also a good place to sit on a rainy day in any season to shield us from the wind blowing the rain onto the porch. We have a good view of the huge cedar trees in our neighbor's yard. I remember when these trees were planted as saplings. They have matured to over sixty feet tall. Many species of birds play in the cedar trees. In the rain, the cedar trees provide good cover for the birds to wait out the rain showers. I am drinking my morning coffee and watching the beautiful red cardinals flittering about.

Things get exciting when the blue jays dive bomb onto the cedar branches with their noisy squawking calls and send all the other birds scattering. The blue jays do not stay long. Once they break up the party, they leave to disrupt things elsewhere. The other birds soon come back to enjoy peace and quiet. They fill the air with their happy songs. The little Carolina wrens puff up and belt out the loudest and most joyous songs. Their songs make me happy and make me feel blessed beyond measure. It is a good place to talk to God and thank him for all his many abundant blessings. It is a peaceful place.

Porch sitting is a great place for drinking coffee and watching the world wake up. A porch is a good place to sit and be quiet and enjoy the beautiful sights and sounds of nature. A place to pray and be thankful for all of God's blessings. It can be a place of healing if you have had a lot of troubles thrown into your life. Sitting in peace and quiet can give you space to think, reflect, and sort your thoughts. It is a good place to give your burdens to the Lord in prayer. Sitting on the porch can lighten your load and give you a whole new outlook on life. Whatever is happening in your life, remember that this too shall pass.

Watching the news, I see people losing their lives, their homes, their loved ones. I see struggle, fear, and disaster. I see pain and suffering and loss of hope. I pray for them, but then I thank God for all that I have because there but for the grace of God go I. I stop and think that could be me. Life is not meant to be a constant bed of roses, but I have learned to be grateful for it, nonetheless. I am not naive. I know I will have my share of rain falling in my life. I hope someone prays for me in return and opens their own eyes to the good they have.

While sitting, rocking, and thinking, my mind wanders off to my early childhood. Our home on the farm was far off the beaten path. We lived on a picturesque back country road. It was muddy or frozen in winter, hot and dusty in summer, and rutted always. The road brought us many adventures.

When I was growing up, things were much simpler. We had no cell phones, televisions, or video games. When we lived on the farm, if we ever had a speck or two of free time, we played in our cow pasture. Betsy and Lady, our cow and calf, did not mind. They seemed glad for the company. Stoney Creek flowed gently through the pasture providing a creek for us to cool off in after unforgivingly hot days of working in the fields under the blistering sun. In Patetown, North Carolina during the early 1950s, we swam in the creek to cool off and rinse the dirt off our sweaty skin. Oftentimes, our sweat mixed with the dirt from the fields became mud.

Those were the days before air conditioning and inside plumbing. We had an obnoxious-smelling outhouse. On a sweltering summer day, the stench emitting from the outhouse permeated the air and would send a person reeling backward. The air was filled with swarming gnats and flies. During summer, we often took our baths in the creek. Or we bathed in a cattle trough filled with water from the hand pump on our back porch and placed behind the barn in the early morning to be warmed in the scorching sun all day.

We were up before sunrise to care for our animals, eat a hardy breakfast, and go into the fields to chop weeds, weave bean runner vines on the tobacco twine strung on stakes for that purpose, and pick, pull, and scratch vegetables that were ready to harvest. We worked until noon. At that time, we sought the shade of a big oak tree that grew between the fields and the farmhouse. Mama or our oldest sister brought a light and cold meal to us as we sat on the ground underneath the big oak tree. We called our noon meal dinner and our evening meal supper. We always had big canning jars full of sweet iced tea to go with our meals. After eating, we returned to the fields to do more of the same until the sun dropped lower over the western horizon.

We lived a life way back in the woods at the end of a long dirt path. Our house was away from any signs of civilization. The closest neighbor was two miles away. We had no electricity. We cooked on a gas stove and our nights were lit by kerosene oil lamps. In winter we heated with a potbellied wood heater. We chopped our wood. My father also brought home piles of scrap blocks of wood from the furniture mill that were discarded in the furniture-making process. It reduced our need for having to chop down so many trees. We still had to chop wood to supplement the wooden blocks at times. We all chopped firewood, plowed, and planted. We harvested the produce and preserved it for the future. We milked the cow, skimmed the cream from the milk, and churned butter from the cream. When it was time to harvest the chickens and butcher the hogs, we were all there too. We all shared in the work. It was hard work, but there was a feeling of security in knowing that we had all that we needed to survive. We felt great satisfaction that our backs and hands had the skills needed for survival.

There was a big grove of blackberry bushes in the cow pasture. Often, we stood by the briard blackberry bushes and ate our fill of blackberries straight from the bushes. We probably ate the eggs of insects that chose to lay their eggs on the fruit and bushes. There is no telling what other impurities we consumed, but we did not worry about such trivial things. We lived through so many things more harmful than eating impurities and a few insect eggs. We did not worry so much about germs and impurities in those days. We had healthy immune systems that served us well. The things that did not kill us made us stronger. We made cobblers and preserves with the blackberries. We didn't waste anything—not time, energy, or food. We were taught that waste makes want.

Our windows were wide open through the summer to catch any whisper of a breeze to help cool the inside of the house. We often prayed for a cooling rain to break the intensive heat. Back in the day, if we did not get rain, we had to manually water our crops. We managed this by each member of my family carrying water from the creek that ran through our cow pasture or from the hand pump on our back porch. We each had a bucket full of water and a ladled one-cup dipper. We each walked many miles watering each plant individually and having to continuously walk back and forth to fill our buckets with water. Back in those days, we prayed so often for rain.

We watered the plants when the sun was getting lower on the western horizon. We knew not to water the plants during the hottest part of the day with the sun beating down so intensely. The hot sun would turn the water into a steam bath for the plants and they would wilt and die. Manually watering the plants was quite a task. We were already bone-tired from working in the fields all day. During a growing season on our farm, it required everyone to work before sunrise until darkness set in.

Many times, God answered our prayers. A summer rain shower was a wonderful blessing and often a cooling treat. We danced in the rain and enjoyed the cooling effects of our sun-parched bodies. After a drenching rain, we waded in the mud puddles that the good Lord blessed us with.

We were poor as far as money was concerned but we didn't know it. We had all the things that really mattered. We raised our own food by spending long hours in the fields in the scorching summer sun. We spent hours caring for our animals. We planted our crops in the spring and early summer. Much of our summer and fall were spent harvesting the crops, slaughtering the animals, and preserving our food for future use. Winters on the farm were a quieter more restful time. As the earth rested, we did too.

We worked hard. We were up just before sunrise and went to bed shortly after sunset every day except on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings. We went to Wednesday evening prayer meetings and Sunday worship services. In warm and dry weather, our family joined our neighbors in their prayer garden located by the creek that ran by their farm. My father built a beautiful church sanctuary in our barn to worship our Savior in cold or inclement weather. Our neighbors were Saponi Native Americans who had left their tribe to seek a different and hopefully better life. Jolly, the father, delivered our sermons and his wife Joy played the lap harp and led us in hymns praising God. We prayed for everyone in our community who needed prayers. We prayed for rain, abundant crops, and God's protection over our crops and over all of our friends and loved ones. We shared news of the world and community. We thanked God for everything that we had and asked for his continued blessings.

Before our Wednesday evening prayer services, we enjoyed a combined meal with the Jacobs family. On Sundays, we enjoyed our combined dinners after worship services. Our family enjoyed the fellowship with the Jacobs family. My siblings and I especially enjoyed the company of the three Jacobs children—Happy, Bliss, and Glee. Happy was their oldest son. He was the same age as my oldest sibling and only brother, Doodle. Bliss was the older of their two daughters. Bliss and my oldest sister, Theresa, were the same age. Glee was their baby daughter. She was under a year old when our family first met Jolly Jacobs's family.

Our family had known Jolly for many years. He worked as a night watchman at Kemp Furniture Factory. When we lived behind the train station, my mother saved table scraps for Jolly's hogs. Jolly picked up the filled slop buckets every weekend and left empty buckets for us to fill again. He also shared fresh produce with our family during growing and harvest seasons. We did not meet Jolly's family until we moved from town to the country.

Often on summer evenings, we would sit on the porch for a while to cool off before going to bed. It was usually very hot inside the house. Sometimes a neighbor would happen by to sit on the porch with us for a while. We talked about the weather, which neighbors were doing poorly, who had passed away, and who was in trouble with the law. We shared a lot of gossip on the porch.

We knew our neighbors through visits to the community country store and front porch sitting. Before the big conglomerate grocery stores took over, community grocery stores ruled. The neighborhood stores were