On December 27th, 1940, my grandma and the man she was going to marry got in a truck, each of their oldest siblings and spouses in tow, and went to the preachers house. When they arrived at his home, he was on his way into the barn to feed his pigs, wearing overalls of course. Once they got the preacher out from the barn, he came inside, and 8 of them stood in a room and my Grandparent's committed their lives to each other before God. Once they were married, the 6 of them drove to Birmingham to have dinner at a hotel.
No fancy wedding ceremony, no fancy reception. They stood before God with a few people they loved dearly.
They had an honest, God fearing marriage. My Grandpa went home to be with the Lord when I was only 2. I look at pictures of him and wonder what it would have been like to know him here on this earth. All I can live by are the stories Grandma tells me about him, about his childhood, about how hard he worked as a farmer to provide. And it makes me proud to be his granddaughter.
I can't wait to meet him in heaven.