by Fleta Aday
My Father loved to tell stories, and most of the stories I know are ones Daddy told.
One of my favorite stories concerns his Grandma Powell and two traveling evangelist.
In the twenties and thirties in northwest Arkansas there were a number of young people who went around the
country collecting money for various religious groups. One day a couple of young men came to Grandma's door
collecting for The Lord. Grandma told them she did not have any money.
One of the them looked around the yard and saw several chickens. He asked Grandma "Could you donate a
couple of chickens to The Lord?" Grand ma quickly agreed to give them the chickens, but she said, "If you
will come back in a couple of hours, I will have them killed and dressed for you."
Grandma fixed the chickens and took them down the road to one of her neighbors. The mother and father
had both been sick and they were having a hard time feeding their large family.
When the young men returned, they asked Grandma where the chickens were she promised to give to The
Lord. She said "I have already delivered them. I was afraid you wouldn't know the way." Grandma knew the
way to The Lord.
When Daddy got tired of telling stories, but we were still begging him to "Tell another one", he would
always say, "I'll tell you a story about Jack and Nory, and now my story's begun. I'll tell you another about his
brother, and now my story's done." And now my story is done.
Copyright © 1996 Fleta Aday
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