I’ll never forget that day. I came home from school and saw all our stuff spread out in the yard. Momma tossed my red sweater into a box. Grandpa carried boxes to his truck.
My doll Blondie lay in the dirt, face down. I ran over, picked her up and hugged her.
“What’s going on?” I asked, tears running down my face.
“We’re movin’,” Momma said.
“We got kicked out,” my big sister Arlene told me. “Grandpa’s takin’ us to his place.”
We didn’t have much, so packing didn’t take long. We all climbed into the truck. Us kids squashed together in the back seat, my brother Charlie, Arlene and me.
Grandpa lived in the country. We always liked it when Momma took us out there. He drove right past his place and pulled into the yard of the little house next door, empty since Great Grandpa died.
“We’re gonna stay here for now,” Momma said. “You kids help get stuff off the truck.”
Grandpa had been haying and the air smelled so good. I remember the bright green grass and the beautiful pink buds on the old rosebush.
That night, I lay and listened to the soft wind song. No honking horns, no shouting neighbors. It was almost too quiet to sleep.
The next day, we explored. The long driveway across the road made a great runway for the old bike we shared. Charlie ran to the door and asked the lady to make Arlene give him a turn.
“You can ride in the driveway,” she said, “but don’t bother me. I’m not going to settle your fights.”
I walked down the road and saw another lady spreading some cloth on her grass.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She said she was painting the cloth with dye to make banners for her church.
“I’m Mrs. Adams,” she said.
“I’m Allie, and this is Blondie.”
“Looks like Blondie could use a new dress. Would you like to make one for her?”
We went in her house and she opened a box of material. I picked out a pretty pink piece. She showed me how to trace around Blondie’s dress to make a pattern and let me push the foot pedal on the sewing machine while she sewed. Then she let me sew a few stitches. The dress looked nice on Blondie.
“This is fun. Can I come back again?”
“You can come any afternoon,” she said.
After that, we went to see Mrs. Adams whenever we got bored. She played Go Fish with us and sometimes gave us cookies.
One day, Momma told us we were moving back to the city. She didn’t like living with all this old stuff around, and she missed going to the bar with her city friends.
“You can move if you want to,” we told her. “We’re staying here with Grandpa.”
Momma didn’t like that. “Well, if we’re staying, I’m gettin' rid of the junk in the back room.”
She pulled out boxes of old clothes and magazines, and dragged them out to the road for the trash man. One smaller box was tied up neatly. A note on top said, “Quilt pieces.”
Momma went back for more magazines. I picked up the box and ran over to Mrs. Adams’ house.
“We found this in my Great Grandma’s stuff,” I told her. “I thought you might like it.”
“Let’s see what’s inside,” she said, undoing the string. “Oh my! These pieces are all cut, ready for a quilt. It’s Grandmother’s Fan. No, there are circles for the center. Would you like to put a block together?”
Would I! We sewed all afternoon but we didn’t finish.
“Come back tomorrow,” Mrs. Adams said. “We’ll make a pillow out of this for your bed.”
“Could we really?” I asked. “It’s so much fun to make things with you!”
Mrs. Adams smiled. “Did you ever think, Allie, how God must have felt when He made this beautiful world?"
“I guess He must have had fun too,” I said.
She reached for her Bible. “Let me tell you about it. You know, Allie, God made you too and He loves you very much.”
I snuggled next to her on the couch and listened, without realizing that this day I would begin my journey of faith.
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