"The pews were hard, deeply varnished oak. Most people would put the prayer cushion on the seats, so that they wouldn't put out their backs like old Mr. Watson did. But Grandma never let us. She said a little pain would strengthen the soul, and when we were older we'd thank her for it. It seemed like then, most grown-ups had something we'd thank them for when we got older.

I didn't like church that much, except for the singing. I loved the gospel music the best, but we usually just sang hymns. Going to church was hard to get out of, especially since Grandma was the one who decided whether you were well enough to go. And then if she made you go anyway, you'd still have to come home and go straight to bed. And you could only eat dry unbuttered toast that stuck to the back of your throat and chamomile tea without honey.

Grandma was a strong believer in going to church and in God. If you listened when we sang hymns or said prayers, she always had the loudest voice. Whenever the Reverend came to Sunday dinner with his wife, he would say how he thought that Grandma was the truest believer in the whole congregation and he always looked for her face in the crowd. Grandma would smile and blush while pretending to brush crumbs off of the tablecloth, and thank the Reverend for his kind words.

Grandma had a garden; the garden and God were her two favorite things. She said they were her sanctuaries. Not many people in Collinsville, Mississippi those days had their own garden; and those that did were considered the "lower class." But Grandma didn't care. She would spend hours planting tulips and all different vegetables. In the summer we would have the most delicious salads with dinner, and Grandma's bean dishes were the best known at Church suppers. My next door neighbor Melissa and I loved helping Grandma with the garden. We liked picking blueberries the best because we could play tag around the tall shrubs and Grandma would give us hot blueberry cobbler with cream on top for a treat. I loved Grandma a lot and I bet you would've too, sweetie."

Lisa pulled the covers up to her chest and said to me, "Mommy, I don't like that story. Tell me another one." n