Then and Now

Things my grandchildren will never feel:

The pull of a cotton sack on their backs; an iodine swab slathered around and over their tonsils; the warm, thick dose of a spoon of castor oil gagging them; the soft, downy coat of a baby deer sleeping by their beds; the squishy floor of my grandfather’s pond between their toes; the bumpy, bouncing ride in a cotton-loaded wagon on the way home; snowflakes melting on their faces during a duck hunting trip in the Tallahatchie bottom; a freshly cut cane pole to fish for bream in Fice Creek; the painful snag of a blackberry vine while gathering berries in the wild; the occasional lump in my grandmother’s boiled custard; the continuous breeze that always blew through the hallway in my grandfather’s barn; perspiration in a truck patch; mud in their fingernails from gathering potatoes behind a garden plow; a real inner tube float in a country pond; and cockleburs in their socks.

Things my grandchildren will never taste:

The rich decadence of my grandmother’s boiled custard; my dad’s pork sausage; Mother’s apple pie; wild muscadines gathered in the bottom; popcorn balls made with sorghum molasses; an Orange Crush soda pulled from the rural store cooler on Daddy’s mail route, the HORRIBLE dose of castor oil; salted peanuts floating in a coke bottle, a moon pie with an RC cola; cold, fried chicken from a dinner on the grounds gathering; a cup of sassafras tea; warm milk from the cow to the table; and popcorn cooked over a fire in a wire basket.

Things my grandchildren will never hear:

The crunch of frozen ice on a predawn hunt with my dad; the battery of gunshots amid a family dove shoot; Jesus Loves Me sung in public school; the ring from a rotary-dial phone; a family radio show; total silence; the fifth verse of Just As I Am; Shall We Gather at the River sung beside a riverside baptizing service; Washington politicians using the word “sin;” or reporters announcing that peace has come to the Middle East.

The one thing my grandchildren must know:

“And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.” John 17:3

“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” Psalm 16:6

Father, I’m grateful for your protection and care over the years. “The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places.” I lift the next generations up that they might follow You and experience your amazing love. Amen

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

• Camille Anding is a child of God since age 12.
• Wife of 53 years to Othel; mother to Tahya and Eli;l grandmother to seven grandchildren and two great-grands.
• Retired from photography business with Othel. Now carry cameras on their travel adventures.
• Freelance writer, regular contributor to Hometown magazines, and dedicated to living “my utmost for His highest.”