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A Hadassah Story: A Woman on the Potter’S Wheel
A Hadassah Story: A Woman on the Potter’S Wheel
A Hadassah Story: A Woman on the Potter’S Wheel
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A Hadassah Story: A Woman on the Potter’S Wheel

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Choice is a tricky proposal, and every choice, good or bad, has its consequences. In A Hadassah Story, author Hadassah Grey shares both the choices shes made in her life and the results of those choices.

Beginning with her birth in Akers, South Carolina, in 1951, Grey narrates her storyher childhood and teen years, her marriage at seventeen, her separation and divorce, another relationship and the birth of a second child, her drug and alcohol use, and the pain of the separation from her children. She tells of trying to get her life on track, knowing she needed the help of God.

In A Hadassah Story, Grey shows how she, a beautiful young woman from a small country town raised in a loving, yet sheltered environment, survived the harsh and heartless lifestyle of the big city. She shares how God divinely orchestrated her steps to achieve his divine plan for her life. This story of strength and faith confirms the saying that all things work together for the good of those who love God are called according to his purpose.

LanguageEnglish
PublisheriUniverse
Release dateAug 14, 2012
ISBN9781475941326
A Hadassah Story: A Woman on the Potter’S Wheel
Author

Hadassah Grey

Hadassah Grey is a poet, writer, and lecturer with an unshakable faith. She enjoys reading, music, art, horseback riding, and random acts of kindness. She currently lives in New York. This is her debut book.

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    A Hadassah Story - Hadassah Grey

    Chapter 1

    Childhood

    I was born in the small town of Akers, South Carolina, in January 1951, and that was where I spent my childhood. I still remember how fresh the air smelled there all year round. The town was surrounded by several large ponds and beautiful, flowing streams that glistened so nicely under the bright sunshine during the day and under the moon and stars on a clear night. It was a wonderful environment in which to live.

    My mother, Mary, was young, tall, and very attractive; she had naturally auburn-colored hair. Sometimes, she displayed a hyperactive personality, but at other times, she was very quiet and reserved, spending days and nights by herself. Sometimes she became angry when family asked her to join in their regular activities, but I now attribute this to the various medications she took to control her mood swings.

    I am her oldest daughter and her second child. My brother Terry is four years older than I am, and we shared a lot of time together when we were young. Terry and I had different fathers; his dad lived in Utah. My brother only saw his dad once in his lifetime, and that was at his funeral when Terry was only twelve years old.

    I never laid eyes on my dad. My mother rarely spoke about him, but when I asked, she’d tell me that he was someone she had met in New York, a handsome Frenchman. Then she would burst into a contagious laugh. We’d laugh until we cried, and then the conversation would be over, and she would turn quiet again.

    My great-grandmother Beth; my grandparents Robert and Josephine, who I called Big Mama; five of their ten children—Frank, Eddie, Arthur, April, and my mother, Mary—Terry, and I all lived together in a nice, six-room house with an outhouse in the back. We had dogs, several cats, guinea pigs, geese, rabbits, chickens, mules, horses, ducks, pigs, and roosters. The home was always sparkling clean; it was lovely. Beautiful flowers and fruit trees grew all around the house. Roses were Big Mama’s favorites, I loved the smell of the peach trees. Big Mama loved beautiful things, regardless of the price. She was a spiritual, graceful, and very intelligent woman. And she was an excellent cook, so talented that Granddaddy’s brother called her Cook. Her biscuits were my favorite. Granddaddy Robert was spiritual, wise, and very strong. He was always busy, in the house, around the farm, downtown, or at the church. He was always on the move.

    My great-grandmother Beth was Granddaddy’s mother; when I was born, she was a widow in her nineties. She wanted to name me Christina, but my uncle Eddie called me Hadassah. Still, my great-grandmother always thought of me as Christina. I can still hear her calling me: Christina, Christina, come help me up this hill. She used to walk down the hill to enjoy the peaceful flowing sounds of the spring’s water. Helping her back up was no easy task. Although she was still very strong for someone in her nineties and had a grip like a bear, I still had to be very careful not to lose my balance so we wouldn’t tumble down the hill.

    Mama Beth lived a long, rich life before she passed away at the age of 102. Her death was hard on all of us, especially Granddaddy, her oldest son, who kept the dress she died in hanging on her rocking chair in his workshop until it rotted. He talked about her for the rest of his life, saying Mama this or Mama that. He loved his mother dearly.

    My grandparents had eleven children of their own and one from my grandfather’s previous marriage. There were six daughters and six sons. The children were two years apart; my mother was the oldest girl. A baby girl was conceived after my mother, but she was stillborn. Her name was Mabel. Grandmama was heartbroken after the loss. Granddaddy had been married before, and he had a son named Thomas. His first wife took sick and died; then my grandfather married my grandmother, and they raised Thomas together.

    When I was a child, three of my uncles and two aunts lived in my grandparents’ home. They were all in high school. I had a close and large family. My Aunt April would comb my hair; she was heavy-handed, and boy did it hurt. April sometimes complained that my hair was too thick, and I had too much of it. I rode the school bus with her sometimes, although she was ten years older than I was. Eddie was my favorite uncle; he often carried me on his shoulders and took me with him when he visited our neighbors and his friends. We laughed and always had good times. He was really sweet.

    We attended church every Sunday morning; attendance was mandatory as far as Granddaddy was concerned. He was the head deacon, and Grandmama was an usher. I loved going to church. Afterward, we’d go home, have Sunday dinner, and prepare for the upcoming week. I would prepare my clothes for school and complete any homework assignments.

    My folks worked hard. Granddaddy was a farmer, and he also worked as a janitor at my elementary school. He raised all kinds of fruits and vegetables and made sure we had plenty to eat. Grandma worked alongside him in the fields and was quite the homemaker. Boy, could she cook! My favorite dishes were her chicken and dressing and those candied yams—wow! Just thinking about them makes me hungry. I was close to my grandmother; she combed my hair and dressed me at times. She was a great nurturer; she answered all my questions with a smile, and we got along well. Due to my mom’s issues, Grandmama became more like a mother than a grandmother. Grandmama and Granddaddy always made sure we had what we needed. I learned to stay positive and be content, and obeyed them with respect.

    Aunt April, Uncle Frank, Uncle Arthur, and my big brother Terry lived with us until I was about seven years old, and then my sister, Judy, was born. My aunt and uncles eventually graduated from high school. Aunt April and Uncle Frank moved to New York shortly afterward to be closer to their older sisters, Naomi and Rosie, and their aunt Thelma, who was Grandmama’s younger sister. We still remained a close-knit family despite the distance between us.

    When we were children Arthur, Terry, and I played together and looked after Judy. I remember Terry pulling me in a little red wagon as fast as he could all around the house, up and down the hills, and through the pastures. I had to hold on as hard or I would have been tossed out because of the bumps and the turns. I actually thought he was trying to throw me out of the wagon, but he never did.

    There were the long vines in the trees, similar to the ones in the Tarzan movies. Terry and Frank sometimes grabbed and pulled one of them to see if it was strong enough to bear their weight; then they would swing back and forth over the spring. They sometimes talked me into holding the vine tightly, supposedly for them. Then, they pushed me back and forth across the spring as they laughed and laughed. It was a frightful experience the first couple of times, but then I liked it enough to find my own vine and swing across the spring without any coaxing.

    At times, we challenged each other to a race to see who was the fastest. I would be out of breath trying to keep up with the boys, but I hung in there. I guess they were trying to make me tough. We played marbles, jacks, hopscotch, jump rope, and a variety of games that we created. Our cousins joined in the fun.

    One afternoon, Judy, who was now big enough to play with us, was riding on the handlebars of Terry’s bike when her foot got caught in the spokes of the wheels. They both fell. Judy suffered a severe injury to her ankle; it was a bloody mess, and the scar can still be seen today. Terry got into big trouble and was punished severely, but I guess the guilt he felt was the toughest to handle.

    While Granddaddy and Grandmama were working in the fields, I often had to babysit Judy. To occupy our time and have a little fun too, I sometimes took a brown cardboard box and flattened it so that Judy and I could slide down the hill. That also turned out to be one of the best ways to put her to sleep. I used to bathe Judy, dress her, and comb her hair; she had beautiful soft, thick hair like our mom. When Judy got a little older, she had this thing about doing my feet. She would ask, Sister, can I take care of your nails and feet? She was persistent about wanting to take care of me and would do so whether I wanted her to or not.

    Terry and Frank always controlled the TV and watched whatever they wanted. As a result, I grew up watching primetime shows like Bonanza, Gunsmoke, and The Beverly Hillbillies. Grandmama had control of the TV during the day, and with her I watched soap operas like Dark Shadows and General Hospital and, of course, the news. I never gained control of the TV.

    I worked all the time, cleaning or studying for school. I learned to accept the things I had to live with, that I couldn’t change at the time. Because Granddaddy Robert worked as a janitor at our school, he was always looking into our classrooms to see if we were there and paying attention. I was afraid of Granddaddy Robert, because if you messed up in his eyes you would get a beating. He’d get a long tree limb or a belt and, my God, he really beat us. My grandma told me that when my mother was young, she and her younger sister Naomi got on the wrong school bus, and because my mother was the oldest she received the punishment. Granddaddy was awful angry and whipped her really bad. Later that night my mother had her first period, and Grandmama said she was never the same after that.

    I enjoyed school. On my first day, I met a girl named Hilda. She looked like me—brown skin with long hair. Hilda and I were in the same classroom for a few years. We became very, very good friends. I was smart, and I loved learning. One of my favorite subjects was spelling. We would have spelling contests, and I was always among the winners. I liked reading, writing, and arithmetic. I passed all of my classes each year. I also acted in a school play. I was a bit shy standing before all those students; in fact, I almost passed out. I knew Granddaddy Robert was somewhere close, paying attention, and so I thought I’d better do my very best. My part of the play went like this: I was asked, How does your garden grow? I replied, With silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row. After that, I wasn’t as afraid the next time we had a show, and there were many others.

    After I was in the school plays, one of the students who was also a distant relative gave me looks that were not pleasant to the eyes. I really didn’t know why. I always got those hate you looks; it was scary. I wondered why she looked at me like that. Sometimes, her closer cousins would watch as she looked at me with envy. Eventually, I told Terry about it. One Saturday morning, he and I were walking barefoot down the country road to the same cousin’s house. A short while later we were all together with my thirteen or more of our cousins. They were all standing around, looking. Suddenly I was in a fight. She attacked me as if she wanted to kill me. I fought as hard as I could. I was so sore and angry after that fight. My brother and I went home, and after that, I just ignored her. My brother told Uncle Arthur that I won the fight. They laughed and laughed until we all fell asleep, although I did not think

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