My grandfather's voice echoed from the bottom of the stairwell announcing that breakfast was ready, and a new day on the farm was about to begin.
I struggled to push my grandmother's homemade quilts away from my small frame.
Our days on the farm began before the light of day, and darkness still clung to the area.
A small lamp sat next to the bed. My bare feet soon met the cold vinyl which covered the floor.I reached over and in the darkness managed to find the cord attached to the lamp. Soon a soft delicate light spilled across the room. A straight caned back chair sat in one corner of the room. My clothes were folded neatly across the seat. I quickly dressed, and carefully made my way down the steep wooden stairs that led into the living room.

Downstairs the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and homemade bread made one's mouth water. All to soon the old wood cook stove my grandmother used would give off more heat than we needed for the days were the beginning of summer.
I was soon seated in the dinning room next to my grandfather where beside my plate his much used Bible lay awaiting my attention. Every day during our morning meal I was required to read to my grandfather. I had just finished the first grade, and stumbled over most of the words. But my patient grandfather would help me through the verses. He felt that it was important for me to get into the habit of reading each day as well as remembering the words.
By the time breakfast was over daylight seeped through our windows, and our daily chores began. I remember well the chores that we did each day around the barn. But my most memorable moments was when I, in my overalls, just like grandfather's would walk behind his six foot four inch frame across the fields. At some point in our walk he would stop, bend over, and grasp a hand full of rich mountain soil. His blue eyes sparkled as he would smell, and then shift the soil slowly through his fingers announcing that the Lord would surely bless our crops this year!
Delighted were the moments when I was allowed to ride our work horse,"Old Bob," through the fields while my grandfather plowed. I can still hear his booming voice singing,"Amazing Grace."
As the days work was over, and our evening meal was done, we sat on the old front porch. Often a neighbor would drop in, and share in a cup of coffee. They would regal us with stories of days gone by. As the skies turned gorgeous colors across the mountain tops grandfather would often pull out his church hymnal, and once again his voice would ring out in praise for the Lord!
His ways were simplistic country ways, but our needs were always met. The thing that always amazed me were the fact that this God-fearing man had no education. He could not read or write. In those days in our area there was very few who owned a television. Some had radios but they were used sparingly for batteries were a luxury, not a necessity.Back then folks often read the Bible or participated in music, and song because there were a number of people in this area that were very good musicians.
These memories often fill me with a since of peace for I was fortunate enough to have a grandfather who was a God-fearing man. My grandfather was much more than just a grandfather. He was a teacher, and a friend to this granddaughter, whom he cared enough for to help her learn the ways of God. A way that will last forever down through the generations!

Learn more about this author, Rebecca Parham.
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