Prayer and Potatoes By: John Tyler Pettee
An old lady sat in her old arm-chair
With wrinkled face and disheveled hair
And pale and hunger-worn features;
For days and for weeks, her only fare
As she sat in her old arm-chair,
Had been nothing but potatoes.
But now they were gone, of bad and of good.
Not one was left for the old lady's food.
Of these her stock of potatoes.
She sighed and said, "What will I do? Where shall I send?
To whom shall I go, to get some more potatoes?"
She thought of the deacon over the way.
The deacon so ready to worship and pray,
Whose cellar was full of potatoes.
She said, "I will send for the deacon to come.
He'll not mind to give me some of
Such a store of potatoes."
The deacon came over as fast as he could,
Thinking to do the old lady some good;
But never thought once of potatoes.
He asked her directly to tell her chief want,
And she, simple soul, expecting a grant,
Immediately answered, "Potatoes".
But the deacon's religion went not that way.
He was more accustomed to preach and to pray,
Than to give of his hoarded potatoes.
So not hearing, of course, what the old lady said,
He rose to pray with uncovered head.
She only thought of potatoes.
He prayed for patience, for wisdom, for grace,
But when he prayed, "Oh Lord, give her peace".
She audibly sighed, "Give potatoes".
At the end of each prayer that he said,
He heard, or thought that he heard, in its stead,
The same request for potatoes.
The deacon was troubled - he knew not what to do.
T'was embarrassing, very, to have her act so
About those 'carnal potatoes'.
So ending his prayer, he started for home.
As the door closed behind him, he heard a deep groan.
"Oh give to the hungry, potatoes".
And that groan followed him all the way home,
In the midst of the night it haunted his room.
"Oh give to the hungry, potatoes".
He could bear it no long--he arose and dressed.
From his well-filled cellar taking in haste
A bag of his best potatoes.
Again, he went to the widow's lone hut.
Her sleepless eyes she had not yet shut.
But there she sat in her old arm-chair,
With the same wan features, the same said air.
So entering in he poured on the floor
A bushel or more of his goodly store
Of the very best potatoes.
The widow's heart leaped up for joy,
Her face was haggard and wan no more.
"Now", said the deacon, "Shall we pray?"
"Yes" said the widow, "Now you may".
And he kneeled on the sanded floor
Where he had poured out his goodly store.
Such a prayer the deacon prayed.
As never before his lips essayed.
No longer embarrassed but free and full.
He poured out the voice of a liberal soul.
And the widow responded with a loud "Amen".
And said no more of potatoes.
Would you who hear this simple tale,
Pray for the poor and praying prevail.
Then preface your prayers with alms and good deeds.
Search out the poor with their cares and their deeds.
Pray for peace and grace and Heavenly food.
Pray for wisdom and guidance, for these are all good.
But don't forget the potatoes.
It's just not the same until you've heard it in his lilted southern Idaho accent. His voice has a way of making everything sound more pleasant.
What reminds you of your grandfather?
5 comments:
I love it!
Paisley and polyester reminds me of my Grandpa. When I was a kid, I used to always tease him that all he ever wore were his paisley button up shirts and his polyester pants. But now that he's gone, I really miss those shirts and pants. They remind me of constancy and stability. That was my Grandpa. Oh yeah, and he was funny too. I miss him.
My Grandpa Campbell used to wear (to my knowledge) striped overalls every day. He passed away when I was relatively young, so I unfortunatley don't remember a lot more about him.
Grandpa Davis will forever be known for the way he said "Beau-ti-ful", and of course his cowboy hat, boots, long sleeved shirt (even when it was 100 degrees outside), jeans, and that belt buckle. He also really loved the rain. No one thought a heavy black rain cloud was prettier than him.
I miss them both!
Dunkin Donuts and bologna (sounds really gross together), we almost always had donuts at his house and he made us a dry bologna sandwich once when we (my sister and I) were so hungry and there was nothing else to eat, needless to say I went to bed hungry that night.
All Day Suckers are what my grandpa used to bring to us when he came to visit. And we loved it when he made homemade donuts. Those were the best, and I remember them being so yummy. My grandpa died when I was only 9 years old, so I don't have a lot of memories. Thanks Sarah for this, it made me realize how much I love my grandparents even if they have passed on!
Loved this so much. Thanks. Grandpas are the very best. I just think this makes you want to always think of others.
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