“What was life like after Melda’s father passed away?” asked Pastor Perry, his body frozen as he listened to Gordon tell the story. Melda went through so much at such a young age. He wondered how the family made it through such a devastating loss.

“Their life became pretty interesting, to say the least.” Gordon replied, as his mind darted back to the last image he had of his mother in that hospital bed unable to speak. “Mamaw Sylvia was something else too. I think Momma’s strength came from her”. He smiled, at the sudden memory of his Mamaw Sylvia. “She was tough, but boy was she a hoot!” Gordon continued.

“Tell me more.” Pastor Perry replied, a look of anticipation visible in his eyes.

 Aunt Della always told me she wondered how her family had survived after Papaw died. It was September, the prime time for harvesting, yet life wasn’t the same. A year had passed since his death. Nothing was familiar anymore. As the oldest, she felt the need to help her mother and siblings. 

The air around the family shack was somewhat solemn. The loss of their father was hard on the family in many ways. The farm became more difficult to maintain; less money was brought in by the crops, and everything became more stressful. Mamaw Sylvia was a sweet woman but she meant business when things got tough.  Aunt Della always said that even as she and the girls did their chores, they always remembered what Mamaw had told them after Papaw died. 

“I want to tell you all something, the Lord will take care of us. Things will be harder around here, but we have to trust Him and He will make a way!”  Mamaw  had presented the family with a challenge that was harder to do than they thought.   “I need you all to help out more without complaining. We will have to find a way to make money however we can.” 

One day in particular, as Della finished hanging the last of the clothes, she and her sisters heard a familiar cry; they ran in the house, their feet barely touching the ground. They  saw the youngest, Jack, crying as Will playfully snatched his lone model car and took off with a triumphant grin on his face. The brothers were always arguing about something. 

Jack ran to Georgia, wrapped his arms around her legs and clung to her tightly. 

“He took my toy!” Jack wailed in despair. 

“It was mine first!” Will argued giving a defiant glare. 

“Knock it off, you two! Mama and us girls have worked hard for ya’ll to even have that.” Georgia commanded while trying to break up the argument. 

Since farms were less lucrative, industrial jobs became more common. Then girls got a job with Mamaw keeping house for Mr. Marshall, a widowed farmer. Mamaw felt drawn to helping him.  Aunt Melda helped sew,  Aunts Georgia and Della cooked, while the youngest girls,  my Aunt Clara and  Aunt Grace did the house cleaning.  Down the road from Mr. Marshall’s house was a little country church that Mamaw started taking the family to every time the doors were open. She wasn’t able to bring them to church before; they  never had anything as nice as what she thought they should wear.

Mr. Marshall was a gentleman to her and the girls in the first months they worked there. Though, it didn’t take long for their opinion of him to change, and not for the better. That last day on his property, he was nowhere to be found.

“Mr. Marshall ain’t home.” Clara said, eyeing the door, the hopeful glint leaving her eyes. They had traveled back to his house hoping to confront him. The last week’s pay wasn’t at all what was promised and his demeanor towards them became icy. Up until this point, he was a gracious man: giving them extra food as their pay, sometimes even paying Mamaw in cloth and thread, other times giving her actual money so she was able to go into the city and buy the boys that model toy car. It was odd for Mr. Marshall not to be home. No one was visible from the outside. Mr. Marshall became someone new, and it hurt them. The girls were so used to their father. No one had ever done the family this way.

“Well, we oughta head back, but, just once I would love to let him have it.”  Sylvia said. As a mother, she grappled with what to do. The girls weren’t happy. Mr. Marshall’s  home turned into an uncomfortable place to be. She hoped that one day the family would get to at least tell him how they felt.

Momma said she and the girls could always here Mamaw praying at night, pleading with God, her cries poorly stifled. “Lord, I don’t know what your plan is for all of us, but I trust You. Please, I pray for salvation for my family. They need you in their lives.”

Losing Papaw was hard on Mamaw. She was overworked and overtired most of the time, but just as she had told her children it would, faith in the Lord took care of the family. They didn’t have a lot but they told me they always had enough. Still, the experience with Mr. Marshall left its mark on the girls, especially  Aunt Melda, who grew to be leery of men. They grew up with a loving example of a man, only to have him ripped away. Momma said that she knew Mamaw Sylvia always felt guilty over the situation, though she never would say so; she tried to block that pain from her memory, never to speak of that time ever again.

Mamaw Sylvia continued to take her family to church and prayed for a new opportunity. Several weeks passed by, then Mr. Lemaster, a man from church, offered the girls another job. 

“They actually found another job?” Pastor Perry asked, his voice filled with amazement. “Wow, that’s incredible considering the times!” He shifted on the bench, with excitement coursing his veins. “This world is full of terrible people.”

“Yeah, my Momma barely spoke of the time with Mr. Marshall, I think the shock of someone being less than kind was a lot for the family.” Gordon looked down as he spoke, remembering his mother’s pain. He thought of his older aunts too, and felt proud of his heritage.

“I can’t imagine.” replied Pastor Perry. He let out a quick sigh, as the story continued.

“Mr. Lemaster, I don’t know what to say,” Mamaw Sylvia eyed him carefully. With a hint of caution, she said, “My last experience with a farmer wasn’t what we thought it would be.”  She searched his face for a response as she spoke. “My family means a lot to me, and well, we got our taste of the ‘dishonest people’ that my late husband always talked about.” She took a  deep breath, as tears brimmed her eyes. “Thank you so much for offering to help us. You didn’t have to.” Her words trailed off as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“I heard your story and I thought that was just awful. Somebody doin’ y’all like that. No, I got my boys and they’re nice fellas. They need somethin’ other than me around here. I reckon my youngins’ are just about the age of yours.”

He motioned to his three teenage sons: Pete, Everett, and Frank. Frank was the same age as Melda, a handsome dark haired teenage boy whose voice was soft spoken. She had seen him around  when they first started going to that church. The boys’ mother had died in childbirth, and the boys were left without an important figure in their lives; much like Momma and the family. Pete and Everett were the same age as Aunt Della and Aunt Georgia: seventeen and fourteen. This blessing came from prayers of faith. Mamaw always said she believed that in her soul.

Mamaw said goodbye to Mr. Lemaster. The girls followed their mother’s example and waved goodbye. Frank waved to Melda, with a little smile in his eyes. The return to the shack that night was filled with hope. Later they sat around eating the little bit of dinner they had with thankfulness and joy. The Lord got them this far, and they all knew that He would continue to be with them wherever they would go.

“Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the LORD thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest”. Joshua 1:9 King James Version)