My sister shares a very personal and imtimate look into our shared family heritage. I’m amazed at what God has done with the lives of my parents’ children. They must have gotten some things right.
I come from strong men and women of faith. It’s deep in my bones. When someone told me that I was strong in the midst of a whirlwind, I’d shrug or just not say anything. Because they could only see the outside. Some days I might be crying inside, other days I was falling apart or holding myself together by thin thread, or “bleeding” on the inside.
My grandfathers and other kinfolk lived and died in Kentucky. They were people of the land, men who were share croppers, soldiers who came home from the Civil War with nothing and did a little bit of anything to create a new life. One great-grandfather eventually owned a 3000 acre farm of rich bottom land along the Cumberland River.
These men killed hogs, milked cows, grew sorghum for molasses and tobacco for cash. One grandfather became the father figure of…
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