My families pasts...

When I was small...my family didn’t know the Lord, as a matter of fact some of my fathers family were pretty much heavy drinkers...I was raised to think that was the way life was...My parents visited my Uncle Al and my fathers sister, Aunt Alice usually every weekend night, Friday or Saturday nights..They sat around the dining room table playing poker. I remember, my mother drank Slo-gin. I remember that because it was red!! And I thought "How strange it was to drink something so red". My father drank beer and sometimes whiskey with it...They were so loud laughing and yelling. They played poker, smoked cigarettes and drinking and eating into the wee hours of the morning...I remember falling asleep many nights on the couch..the room filled with smoke and the sounds of the card playing...and laughing. Back then is seemed so right...My sweet grandmother, Grandma Davis lived there and she would just stay in her room and not join in. I wonder now about my quiet little Grandma...what was she thinking. I wish I would have sat down and talked to her about her life, when she was young, and the things that she held so close to her heart...But, I was a child and the life I had was not interested in old people...I really don’t remember thinking anything much about my Grandma’s...Both of my grandfathers were dead, and I only heard stories of the things they lived through...But, my Grandmothers were both alive. My fathers mother, Bessie...Her real name was Rebecca, but everyone called her Bessie...My mothers mother, everyone called her Murt...her real name was Murtle...They both died while I was in my teen age years...and I never got to know them the way I should have and the way I would have like to. I never remember either of them being unkind, or truly loving. I just remember, them in person in all their glory..Grandma Davis darned holes in socks, she sewed with a big wooden egg she stuck in the heel and with thick thread, she wove in and out until the sock had a big thick knot like bump... She also used a curling iron...to curl her few hairs that crowned her head...She would stick into the flames of the cooking stove...get the iron hot and then sear her hair...to a curl..The smell was awful...but it made her feel prettier...and she would curl her hair often. She never said, much, smiled and nodded, but I knew she loved me..somehow. But, she never showed it...I don’t remember any hugs, or kisses, nor do I remember anyone expressing with words they loved me!!! I really never missed it because I never had it....knowing that my family never knew the true love of God, nor did they ever experience anything more than repetition of worship in the Methodist Church, they never attended!! I am so thankful that the Holy Spirit saw to it, to find me through a family that never wanted or cared about his grace...I will never be able to praise MY LORD enough, to see to it...that I didn’t go down the same path as my ancestors. As much as I pray for them now and remember them and the wonderful ways, their time is up for salvation, they chose a different path!!! THANK YOU JESUS FOR CHOOSING ME!!