One year ago in the evening of Oct 1, my granny died. Her impact on my life has been tremendous – and continues to be. She was an oral storyteller, straight from the storytelling culture of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Throughout my childhood I would sit and listen to her wonderful tales of people in my family’s past, and as I grew up I started writing them down.
Some of the stories are sad.
Some are happy.
But many are stranger or more remarkable than fiction every could be.
She is the first person that I ever remember calling me a ‘writer’.
I believe the legacy of Christian faith she left behind to me, but also the love of story.
I’d like to thank the Lord for my granny. Her love for Jesus spilled over into the lives of her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and all the people who came in contact with her.