I dream of a small wood frame home nestled in the hills of West Tennessee. I can almost hear the clicking of the old rocker against the wooden planks of the front porch as Granny quietly hums a familar tune from the morning serivce. Cotton growing high in the fields under the heat of the July sky. No rain in sight for days and the heat is oppressive. The old woman's fingers work swiftly and skillfully as she pieces scraps of fabric together to make a cozy quilt for her new great grand baby. She recalls her own children being born in this very home. A home built by her beloved husbands own hands. Through hard work, long hours and some difficult years, her children grew up strong, healthy and loving the Lord. They now have their own families and she has her precious memories of an amazing life....Simple...Beautiful....
