The workday on the farm was hard, backbreaking, and exhausting.
Everyone worked and had tasks that they were responsible for and had to do every day except Sunday.
Sundays were special and was our day of rest and worship. We all took baths Saturday night while mom ironed my white shirt, my Sunday blue jeans, a dark blue denim pair that I only wore on Sundays for church.
I loved the sanctuary; it was breathtaking with stained glass windows. The pews were polished and shiny. I loved to sing hymns and gospel songs.
I always close my eyes when the preacher prayed, but I said my own prayers hoping the crops would grow good and the rain would come to our fields.
It was a good place to grow and the farm gave us so much. I learned about kindness and helping others and how hard work made us stronger.
It was a time of great responsibility, and often hardships, yet it was a good life, built on hard work, family, friendship, and church on Sundays.
