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Cruel Harvest

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Press Release

FORMER MIGRANT WORKER RISES OUT OF THE DEPTHS OF BETRAYAL AND PAIN TO FIND HOPE AND A PROMISE

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Book Excerpt

"Get out here, now, or I'm gonna kill you!" he hollered.

Little girls are hardwired to hold their daddies in high esteem, so it comes as a shock the first time a daughter feels the back of her daddy's hand across her face . . . or watches him punch and kick her mother to within an inch of her life.

How could this be? Her older sisters teach her how to survive, even when he comes for her in the night.

A girl learns to become invisible, to look the other way, to say nothing when a curious stranger asks if she's okay. To lie. To expect nothing, not even from relatives.

To cry without tears.

To pray silently.

When she is fourteen, and weary, a girl begins to wish she were dead. Cruel Harvest is the compelling story of how she lived instead.

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My Poems

Fran Grubb at age 3

Cotton Fields And Faith

Picking cotton for the farmer
feeling dirty sad and low
blistering sun high in the heaven
cannot let my feelings show

Drag the cotton sack behind me
feels so heavy on my back
I dream of better days and freedom
as I pick and fill the sack

My swollen hands are cracked and bleeding
from the sharpness of the boles
blood stains white cotton as I pick it
with each handful that I hold

From dawn to dusk out here we labor
until too dark for me to see
the farmer waits up at the trailer
to weigh my cotton sack for me

As I leave field and sack behind me
slowly now I walk alone
to a sad and shabby dwelling
the farmers shack that we call home

Not to a bed or clean white linen
frayed dirty quilts lay on the floor
and a meager meal to share with
the little sister I adore

My sister's cowering in the corner
as I walk inside the door
horror once again assaults me
Mama's bleeding, Daddy roars

Whisky breath and heavy footfalls
make me turn about to see
the face of terror that's my father
screaming angry words at me

When at last the whiskey takes him
to the sleep for which we pray
holding on to one another
we two sisters kneel to pray

Whispering quietly in the darkness
to the Lord above we say
please God give us strength and courage
just to face another day

God gave us strength to face each peril
with his love he lit our day
we could not have faced the horror
without His light to guide our way

We knew He'd free us from our prison
He always lights our darkest roads
God kept us safe and gave us courage
Jesus carried our heavy loads

So the cotton sack though heavy
and the terror of each night
did not ever break our spirits
we kept Jesus in our sight.

 

The Crash

Speeding down a dark black road
father drinking as he drives
two frightened little children
softly praying for their lives

he yells and screams in anger
whisky has him in its hold
he does not see or think or feel
the liquor drowns his soul

arms wound around each other
the children cower in the car
the lines upon the highway
flying by like shooting stars

he doesn't see the light pole
nor does he really care
off the road at ninety
children flying through the air

but saving little children
is what Jesus likes to do
He caught us safely in His arms
and protected me and you.

 

My Brother

Only the Lord and Jimmy know
What happened that Saturday night
When God reached out and touched his heart
and the devil lost the fight.

My brother said, "Frances, I can't."
But Jesus said, "you can!"
"Because I died and made a way,
Reach out and take my hand."
I held my breath as I waited,
Afraid to say too much,
I knew that Jesus was pleading
And all he needed was one touch.

We prayed and asked for Jesus
To give him the strength and His power,
And the Angels rejoiced in heaven,
As Jimmy was saved in that hour.

Jesus is coming back sooner
Than some may understand
And now I can rest in peace knowing
My brother will be holding His hand.

My brother Jimmy being baptized

It's never too late! My brother is being baptized at 62 years of age!

"Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." Matt 11:28