Home
My maternal great-grandmother Adelia Frances Moran has been described to me as someone who nourished everyone around her. Church family, neighbors, and friends were always stopping by. She and her husband, my great-grandad John Fee Moran, served their community of Berea, Kentucky for decades, helping Black students to press on in their pursuit of an education. My great-grandparents grew up in a time when interracial education was illegal. The 1904 Day Law and Plessy vs Ferguson kept many Black children from having access to earn an education beyond the 8th grade. It was not until the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 1954 – the landmark Brown v. Board of Education case – that racial segregation in schools was overturned. My great-grandparents valued education and humbly opened their hearts and homes to support education in the Black community as opportunities opened up at Berea College. Students came to them and were fed body and soul. The students came to them and found home.
Home
Written by: Adelia Davis
My great-grandmommy was where we found home
Curling up in my bed listening to stories about her powerful hands
Hands that fed food that made your every cell smile
Her hands were always busy
Growing what she served
Directing little hands too
A clean house welcomed many in
Young, Black college students
Faced taller fears than those rolling Bluegrass hills
In the shadow of segregation laws
But in my great-grandmommy’s hands
They found family.
My great-grandmommy was where we found home
Her voice the gentle spring sun on budding petunias
Never judging folks for being human
Even when cities went up in flames
And people turned to runnin’ off with what wasn’t theirs
Compassion lined her every word
Her voice was used to share wisdom
Echoing God’s Love
And always singing praises.
My great-grandmommy is where I find home
Her name reaches down generations
Giving me meaning
“Daughter of God”
Her roots have steadied my branches
Reaching up to the sun she always showed
She embraced wonder and curiosity
Her grandchildren could run to her with big questions:
“Why are people different colors?”
“We’re different colors like the flowers in the garden, reflecting God’s creativity. We are His garden, baby.”
Now, it’s my turn
to nourish
to listen
to hold and carry
to love on
making a home for our people.