for the pea-pickers soul

Thumbs are sore this morning and will be again today. Yesterday I was given the sweetest gift anyone could give me. Of course the givers would never know that. After all, why would anyone think that picking peas could act as salve on a soul?

Memories of my six Georgia years are welcome in my mind, the only ones I ever try to recall. I was two on arriving and eight when we left. This was the worst time for my parents. Jobs were difficult to find. We were the poor family at church that received "charity" in various forms. I can understand how difficult this must have been for my parents now. As a parent, I know it would be humbling to have people offer you "gifts" because someone thought you were unable to care for your own. People want to be kind and give to the unfortunate, but it's those who are willing to receive it who face the humble task, for in the taking sometimes you're admitting you need the help.

Once the church gave my mom a sum of money to help with expenses. Shortly after that, at a church related event she saw a show and tell record player. You slid the film strip in the slot and played the record, as the Bible story was told, the film strip slid down and showed the pictures on a t.v. screen. She wanted it so badly so she used the money the church had given her to buy it. As she made the purchase, the pastor of the church gave her a disapproving look. (Sometimes when people give charity, it's yours as long as you use it as they wish.) She felt so small, but she never regretted getting it. We learned many Bible stories from watching it. Anyway the humbling times are not ever going to be remembered fondly, I suppose. So those Georgia years meant hardship and shame for my parents but for me, those were my good times.

We picked in others' gardens. The deal was always the same, whatever we picked, we kept half and gave them the other half as payment for letting us pick in their fields. I don't ever remember enjoying the picking back then, but whenever I get to now there is a strange peace and pleasure that combine to soothe negative feelings. Memories are tricky, the really bad ones can sometimes be dominant, drowning out the existence of the good. But when one experiences something again, that deja vu moment can stir up the memories so the good that was buried deep now resurfaces. That happens in a pea field for me. I could pick peas for days and never tire just to get that.

My favorite recent pea picking memory was when my mom, sister, and I went back to Georgia one year and brought my grandma to this massive pea farm. There were acres and acres of peas. My sister does not find anything appealing about farming or country life so watching her in a pea field again was funny. We knew she didn't like it, but she kept on until finally she stood tall in that pea field and starting singing loudly the country song "She thinks my tractor's sexy..." She and I both share the same childhood memories...maybe a little nostalgia hit her in that moment too, a little "chicken soup for the pea pickers soul".

James 1:17--"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above..."