When I was a little boy in the 1950s, I lived with my grandparents, Miz Lena and Adrian, on their farm in Middle Tennessee.
To my way of thinking, heaven gives an extra helping of good life to people in the country. God recognizes their hard work and laborious dedication to the land he created. The subtlety of the Almighty’s reciprocal gifts can only be fully appreciated if one just takes the time and knows what to look for.
Miz Lena’s housekeeper, Elizabeth, was the first to point that out to me. She was a plump black lady with an ever-present, understanding smile and smooth hands. Back in those days, a black lady worked very hard, made very little money and could only hope that her children would have a better life than she.
When your life is about making it from paycheck to paycheck, you give thanks for anything extra. Elizabeth was one of those people. She spent time to explain to me what was important and what to look for. She called them “Da Lord’s hidden treasures.”
She and I would sit out back on the picnic table just a few steps from the screen porch of the “big house.” The table had been bought new. It started out redwood-colored. Over the years, it faded to a smooth grapevine gray and parch-ironed by the sun.