Reflection/ He Prayed for Me

For some years now my younger brother who is a pastor in Oxnard California, been saying to me I should write a book. The other day, I began a book called the "Share Croppers Son". My grandfather was a share cropper in rurual area of Virginia called King William County. He was an uneducation man, with a heart for people, anytime he comes home late my grandmother never worried, she would, say "Your daddy, stop and helped somebody on the side of the road." I have seen him take people who have broken down into Richmond, which was thirty miles away. He had a saying that went, "boy if they are colored, you're just helping folks out; but if they are white, well you can't buy a loaf of bread with a thank you no where."

Rurual Virginia in the sixties was no cake walk, but he could talk to anyone, the most die hard redneck would walk away from him thinking he's either crazy or a nice man. He went home to be with the Lord back in 1976, I miss him.
But he taught me that by faith in God your never really poor. The fact of the matter I didn't even know that we where poor. He was a man that just didn't pray, but had a relationship with God. He could admire God's handy for hours with the glee of a three year old child.

I use to tease him about the time he spent in prayer at night. He would stay on his knees for more than an hour each night. One night I said, "Daddy your just worrying God to death." He would tell me, "Boy, (I use to think he didn't know my name) the first ten minutes I was praying for me and your mother, the rest of the time I was praying for you."

Daddy, thanks for praying for me.
Min. Ron Richardson

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