A Polly Story

Mama Polly in her favorite dress, with her two favorite people (and yes, I mean favorite!), eating at her favorite fish restaurant in Thomaston, Georgia.

My mother-in-law Polly is an original, one-of-a-kind woman, devoted teacher, pianist, cat lady, and character in the truest sense of the Southern phrase. She is beloved!

Here’s the plain truth (according to Elise).
If Mama Polly doesn’t get into heaven, there’s no hope for the rest of us. This special woman has a servant's heart that leads her family with her undeniable faith.

Mama Polly’s childhood stories continue to teach us, they enchant us, and they remind us to pray. Today is her eighty-sixth birthday. I would like to share one of my favorite stories from Mama Polly- the story of her tree.
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It was Friday, a beautiful spring morning in 1941. I was six years old. A yard swing hung from a tall walnut tree in the front yard of my great aunt’s house. I stayed with Aunt Bessie while my mother was working. Aunt Mattie and Uncle Ben lived across the wide hallway on the other side of the duplex. A large “L” shaped porch framed the front. They used to live in my house. When I was a baby, they decided to switch houses with Mama and Daddy so I would have a room. Family was a big help to us.The two houses were in sight of each other.

Mama was at the mill and Daddy was working at the grocery store. Uncle Ben was still in the fields. He stayed there until long after dark.

Sitting on the yard swing, I kept an eye on my dirt road and my house on the other side of the road just down the way. I began to pray. Even though I did not understand the idea of sin, I knew how to talk to God. I knew how to ask God to keep me from doing wrong in my life.

I whispered, God help me.

The next morning from my bed, I continued to pray. I still felt the same conviction of my prayer from the day before.

God help me.

Mother was there too, and I heard her quietly working around the house. She always kept a clean house. No clutter. Everything had a purpose. If she thought an item was no longer of use, out it went. Mama was always mopping those floors, keeping them so clean.

Our house was like so many country homes in Georgia at that time. We didn’t have sub-flooring or linoleum. We didn’t have a telephone and had to walk the store to use one. We didn’t have a car until a few years later. Mama’s sister Rose and her husband Theodore agreed on a price with Mama and sold her our first car.

Vegetables came in summertime and we always did have plenty of corn. The hogs were for November. Fall also meant that the fire would burn hot for the cane syrup mill that Uncle Ben had on his farm. I could watch the process but was not allowed to help. That was some real good syrup. I can still smell the strong coffee and crumble biscuit covered in thick syrup.

Getting out of bed, I decided what I needed to do. I got some hope and headed outside.

I located a shovel and walked across our dirt road to a ditch. It had rained the night before; this earth was soft. It didn’t take me long to find a tiny sycamore tree. It was only about two feet tall. I carefully dug it up and took it back across the road to my yard. I planted this tree near my house.

I was hoping it would live.
I prayed, God help me.

Using the tree as a symbol of commitment, I asked God not to forget my prayer. I asked him to keep me from doing wrong in my life.

My old country home has since been torn down.
The road is paved.
Undergrowth clutters the landscape.
The tree remains.

Times may change and how we are provided for may change.
But God- He looks after His people. He is faithful.


Happy Birthday, Mama Polly!
You are loved! We are grateful for your witness on our lives. Thank you for teaching us to pray…
God help me_________________! (She says we should fill in the blank for ourselves. God will hear.)

He is faithful and Mama Polly is always praying for us.

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