Peaches from Cotton

Yes, you read that title correctly, except you need to know that Cotton was not a plant but a man’s name. 

As I got taller and old enough to reach the pedals, I had to drive tractors in the summertime putting in tobacco.  As the oldest of 4, I was the first one to get to DRIVE on the highway.  Sounds fun but you put a 12-year-old on a small tractor hauling trailer after trailer of primed tobacco, on the highway in 90+ degree heat along a road that took you straight to the beach and you will get all kinds of looks.  It was a never-ending trip.  Pot-holes, dirt roads, pull into the barn yard and drop your loaded trailers and grab two empty trailers and head right back out because they would be waiting for you at the field.  No time to stop.  Round trip could take an hour.  Had to hurry, hurry, hurry to get the barn filled.  Heaven help you if a rain cloud popped up.  As daddy would say, “suck it up buttercup.” Get moving.  It was hot, hazardous work.  Doesn’t matter if you are hauling an 18-wheeler load or a box of tobacco behind a 130 tractor, when you go to stop, that load is going to push you, right through a red light if you weren’t careful. You quickly learned how to adjust the speed so you never had to touch the clutch.  You didn’t stop till lunch time and then not again till quitting time and that was when the barn was full.

There were no convivence stores on every corner.  Nowhere to grab a snack or a soda unless someone saved you one at the field or the barn at break time.  But, the summer I started driving a truck, Cotton fed me.  A youngish man with pinkish white hair sold peaches at the intersection of highway 41 and highway 76. I passed him at least 8 times a day.  He always threw up his hand and waved.  One day, after the heat was setting in, I got caught by the light at the intersection.  Cotton came over to the passenger window that was down, cause there was no AC, and gave me the biggest peach I had ever seen.  Let me tell you that was like eating candy.  I was always hungry and a tomato or cucumber was usually the snack we had, complete with salt and pepper on the dashboard.  On the return trip I thanked Cotton for the delicious peach. And every day that summer, if I went through that intersection and he was selling peaches, he gave me one. 

That man, who I think may have had albinism, treated me with kindness.  I had nothing to give back except a smile and my thanks.  How often does God put people in our path to make a season go by easier?  As a young teenager it was embarrassing to see other young people on their way to vacation and here I was dirty and sweaty sitting on a not so beautiful tractor or truck,  I had to suck it up.  I wasn’t allowed to wear shorts or tank tops because daddy said so.  No sandals either because toes had to be covered. But God used a humble peach peddler to brighten my days for a season. There have been many, many, times I wished I could have found Cotton and thanked him better.  He probably never knew what all those peaches meant to a scrawny farm girl.  Quit laughing, y’all! I know there is nothing scrawny about me now. :)

Who is your “Cotton” and have you thanked them lately?   I pray you enjoyed this story, not quite a devotion, but one I needed to tell.  Look around to see where and who your “Cotton” is. Thank God for giving you a “Cotton”, too, even if only for a season.