This I Believe

On my fingers are tiny scars accumulated as a child cutting fruit for my great grandmother, Big Momma’s preserves. The process was long, slow and dull, so we passed the time with sun made ice tea and lengthy discussions. No matter how the conversation started or who was involved, it seemed to me that inevitably the story would eventually take a turn towards the tragic.

“I’m teaching you to prune the same way my momma taught me,” Big Momma said one day before adding. “It was awful the way Big Daddy use to beat her. She had to run off to save her life. Left me to raise her children.”

Another time she remarked on how her son, Lang use to love her canned figs. I never knew Lang. He drank himself to death in his thirties before I was even born. It made me mad to think about how Big Momma and the other women in my life had suffered. My grandmother’s son had been killed by his wife and her daughter, my mother, was nearly killed when my father shot her.

I wondered out loud why life had been so cruel to them. But Big Momma, a religious woman, just shook her head and sang out a familiar Bible scripture, “All things work together for good.” I rolled my eyes and thought stupid woman.

Sensing my doubt, Big Momma explained further. “Londa, you haven’t lived long enough to see the subtle way things work themselves out. But if you allow yourself, you’ll come to place in your faith where you will believe even when the worst happens that God is gon’ see you through. When you get past it, you’ll be stronger and wiser for it.”

I hunched my shoulders, disbelieving.

“Smell this, Londa.” Big Momma said holding a ripe pear up to my nose. I breathed in its sweetness. “Now what does it taste like?” she asked.

Before I could bite into the soft, heavy fruit, she pulled her hand back. “Girl, you’ve bitten into thousands of pears before and none ever tasted like a peach, a lemon or a watermelon. They all tasted like a pear. That’s the same way I know that no matter what happens, I’m gon’ be alright, blessed even. That’s faith, girl.”

With that Big Momma sliced the pear into fours and placed a large chunk on my tongue. I bit down and chewed on Big Momma’s words hoping that I too would one day know what life tasted like.

Finally, I’ve lived enough to believe that no matter what, things are gonna be alright.