If you were born in 1907, struck with polio in 1910 at the age of three, and your legs lost most of their strength, you would have been called ‘crippled’. It was not politically incorrect to say crippled in those days. In fact, the words 'politically incorrect' didn’t exist in those days.
My Granddaddy’s father was a farmer. He lived in a time when you grew your own food, hunted for your dinner, and worked hard every day. He was a young man with a four year old daughter, a three year old son who was now ‘crippled’ and would never be able to help on the farm, and a six month old infant. He went out hunting for dinner one afternoon and laid his gun against a wooden fence as he climbed over it. No one knows the details, but the gun discharged as he climbed over the fence and suddenly my Granddaddy’s daddy was dead.
There were rumors that he might have shot himself, but those who knew him well said this just was not in his nature. He loved the Lord, loved his wife, and loved his kids. The rumors hurt his heartbroken wife, who was suddenly a widow with two small children (one disabled) and an infant. But then... unfounded rumors always hurt don't they?
There was no time to grieve. She did what most hardworking women of that era would have done-- she kept going. She sold their farm and home and moved to town. They were still in the country so this was not a big city. She found a job as a bookkeeper. She was good with figuring numbers. She worked hard. She never married again. She raised her children. She provided shelter, food, and medical care for her son.
I was six months old when ‘Mama’ died—everyone called her Mama. There is a picture of the two of us when I was two months old. She is dressed up in her Sunday best, as am I, and I am laying on her like a sack of flour. Neither one of us is smiling. I don’t look unhappy—I look content, comfortable. She’s not smiling, but she looks content, comfortable, satisfied with a life well lived, and pleased to be holding the only great-granddaughter she will ever have. Her face shows that she has worked hard all her life, but again, I see the satisfaction of a life well lived for the Lord in her eyes.
I would give anything to know this woman. Know her story. What was it like to live her life? How did she manage? Did she ever have time for tears? Late at night when she was lying alone in her bed missing her precious husband, knowing the rumors that were swelling, wondering how her son would ever become a man. In a time when men needed their legs for work and a boy always needed his father, did she cry out to the Lord and ask Him to guide each step?
Contentment
She raised three hard working children. Her oldest daughter was a shopkeeper with her husband. She was never able to have children of her own but they adopted a son later in life. Her youngest daughter moved to the big city of Atlanta and worked all her life. She never married, but was very close to her big brother who also lived in Atlanta. My Granddaddy, Mama’s only son, was gifted with numbers just like his mother. He was a wonderful salesman, businessman, and worked hard never letting his legs stop his productivity. He loved the Lord with all his heart, and he was blessed with a heart full of kindness and love for others. People loved him for who he was and wanted to help him succeed. I can’t help but wonder about the family and church members who must have come along side to help Mama raise such a wonderful man of God.
The polio caused his legs to never work properly. He had surgery after surgery. He wore braces on his legs. Depending on the day and the pain level you might find him using his cane, crutches, or a wheelchair. He met my Grandmother Faith and feel instantly in love. Two people with such big hearts were meant to find each other!
I once asked my grandmother, “How did you and Granddaddy meet?” She told me that he was a boy in the area that she knew. Her family had moved to town after the boll weevils ate the cotton crop one too many years in a row. Her daddy ran a diner in town. I’m not sure where they met. I believe her words were—“Oh, we were running with the same crowd.” She said, “I never noticed he was crippled. It just didn’t matter. The Lord wanted me to love this man, and I did. The Lord just gave me a big heart of love for him.”
Through the years my grandmother said a lot of wonderful and wise things to me, but this statement filled me heart with respect and love. “I never noticed… it just didn’t matter.” Clearly it was obvious that his legs didn’t work. He walked differently. He wasn’t strong. He didn’t play sports or work a farm in a time when farming was the major occupation in South Georgia. And yet, God filled her heart with love for this man, and because of that she didn’t notice, and it didn’t matter.
They married in the early 30s. They stood with the preacher in her parent’s house. She wore her Sunday best, carried flowers (it was April and she had a beautiful bouquet picked straight out of the yard), her sister played the piano, and her five year old nephew cried his heart out because Aunt Faith was moving to the big city. After the ceremony, the families ate a big country lunch together. Granddaddy and Grandmother Faith packed their car and drove to the city. A family friend had offered Granddaddy a sales position with Hav-a-Tampa in Atlanta. They had rented a little apartment downtown. They drove on mostly unpaved roads the whole way. Grandmother had a pound of butter in her lap that someone had churned, wrapped in wax paper, and handed her as a wedding gift through as they left their hometown.
Such love!
I try to imagine the thoughts going through their heads. Grandmother said it was raining so those unpaved roads from Carrollton to Atlanta had to be bumpy. Can you imagine their excitement? Everything lush and green from the rain, a new start to a new life, leaving small town life and moving to the big city, starting their married life together. Grandmother must have known that their life would be hard. She would have to do things that her husband would be unable to do, but she considered it pure joy. She loved this man that the Lord had brought to her. She loved this life God had given her. She was in for a great adventure and a great life.
There is so much more to tell—but for today, just know that this woman who would become my grandmother, lived her life with her whole heart, and she married an amazing Christian man who loved her every day of his life. She lived out Proverbs 31, the virtuous wife, in ways that would be impossible to capture with my simple words. She was a shining example to me of how to be a woman of God. She taught me lessons that I use every day of my life. Most importantly she taught me to see with my heart more than with my eyes; because sometimes in life, it is better to ‘just not notice’ the obvious flaws in others but to see them as a creation of God and remember He loves them more than we can imagine.
What a life lesson…
Beautiful, simply beautiful.
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