Faith Under Her Pillow

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Oh, she was born a sweet Irish lass

both grandfathers from Donegal

into a new country they came, but same poor class.

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The Stinson brothers (left orphaned & bartered) came to Alabama

and spent time on the river Mississippi

admiring all of it's mighty, rolling panorama.

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Eliza Almeda's parents would marry there in Clarke County

(and one day give daughter's hand to a tall man named G.W. Bridges)

All had moved off to Mississippi, each working hard for their bounty.

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The Bridges there would then rear two girls and three boys.

There was plenty of farming and taking care of the horses,

but life was full enough with cousins...not much need for toys.

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Now Eliza knew the Good Book said to honor father and mother

so she had named her firstborns as such;

There was a daughter called Mary Emily and William Bryas, the brother.

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There was also a Cecil, a Gertrude, and a Shadrick short' to Shade.

All enjoying Bay Springs Lake where they'd fish...

(and generations since; that hobby would never fade.)

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A very sad time came to the Stinsons & Bridges in 1910

when 20 yr-old Bryas, along with two young male cousins

drove a herd of their horses to Laurel for sale, way back then.

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They made the 20-mile trek from Heidelberg to Laurel, as planned.

Sold off their stock and as men of that age, began to party.

Drinking liquor from a watermelon, not a good idea...as it panned.

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The two Stinson boys left their extremely sick cuz with a doctor

as they rushed back home to fetch his beloved parents.

When Eliza heard the most terrible news, to her knees did it drop her.

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Her young son would not recover from such a mix of sugar and toxin.

And really neither would she...her heart would literally crush...

eight short years later, leaving toddler, Cecil in Gertie's care for adoption.

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See, Gertie was my grandmother and these stories she did tell me;

but wait, there is one more.

This one's for the faith that beautiful Eliza did (for us) foresee.

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Back in her day there was a travelling preacher who spoke of God

and his name was Sam P. Jones.

Now the rest of this story...well, to you, it might seem very odd.

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See, my great-Grandma, could neither write much less, read.

Yet she slept with his (Jones' bought book) under her pillow.

"Why," you might ask? Defied logic you might concede!

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But I call it faith and that often makes absolutely no sense at all,

just defies what we can see in this sphere.

Eliza looked beyond all of her "senses" and reached past man's fall.

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And in doing so, she could see God's Hand in our struggles and strife...

that it would lead us to look up,

leave the pain behind, and hold on to a new Heavenly life.

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Her faith has since left a trail, by DNA to her descendants...

I'm grateful to that book & her pillow and

even though I've never seen an image of her, she left remnants!

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Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

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Sam P. Jones was a colorful man with a colorful past. When I learned more about him, along with the culture of the South, and with all the character that has been written about him, I learned more about my Eliza Almeda, my great-Grandmother.

She must have, at some point in her life, been in attendance of one of his revivals and heard one of his fiery sermons. His boldness and raw honesty must have attracted her by the truth in His Word and the tone in which the Reverend delivered it!

To learn more about him, go to: