During a recent vacation to Arizona, my family and I had an opportunity to pay our respects to my late grandmother, Talma Scorza.  +RIP+  It is hard to believe that it has almost been 10 years since she passed away!  We sure do miss her dearly!

Talma Scorza (1925-2009)



After our Arizona visit, a family member presented to me one of the few handwritten letters that we have from my grandmother.  Consequently, the letter composed about 25 years ago, which I transcribed below, is truly precious.  Moreover, it is a message of hope! Not infrequently, we uncover horrible things (whatever they may be) when we dig deeper in our quest to learn more about our ancestors and relatives. Unfortunately, this is a part of the human condition. The story, which you are about to read is no exception. Thankfully, though, in this case, hope had the final say!

Below is a transcript of the letter in my late grandmother's own words. The letter's religious and hopeful message reflects her deeply-held beliefs. 


One of God's Many Daily Miracles

by Grandma Talma Scorza

[Holmes County, Florida]


Early one summer morning when I was ten years old, my cousins, siblings and I were playing outside while Mother and Aunt Cora prepared breakfast. Aunt Cora being a young widow with five children, our family shared with them what God had allowed us to enjoy- Our “play” outside included jumping from the “hay loft” (attic of storage area that covered the wagon and farm tools) to the hard ground – height of 8 or 10 feet. In a 10 year old mind seemed more like 12 ft. Wow, did our bodies take a “jarring,” pounding, shaking as our feet hit the ground, also probably our brains. By the time we went in for breakfast of “hoe-cakes,” “griddle cakes,” known as pancakes today, I had developed a terrific headache. I was concerned with getting my portion (selfish, I know, but with nine hungry children), I became too sick to eat and left the table. I never made it to where I was going before passing out.

My family found me a few moments later, and my brother was sent running to get neighbor, Mrs. Paul, to come and pray with them, while someone else went for [the] country doctor (Dr. Smith). The following week is blank for me, so I only know what was reported to me by family. As my fever soared to 107, I was given quinine (bitter medicine) as [the] doctor ordered. (In my mind's eye, I can still see all those little empty bottles). They also used mustard plasters on my chest and back and any other home remedies suggested. All the while a 24 hour a day vigil was held at my beside, with prayers being offered on my behalf. 

So, for me without answered prayer, I wouldn't be here (63 years later) writing this article for a wonderful grandson, Stephen. Everyday and every hour is always a miracle for me. Even though many relatives and neighbors had been there during the week of vigil, it was Mrs. Paul (my Sunday School teacher) sitting at the foot of the bed when I woke up after being in a coma for a week. It was a special moment to see her and ask for a big doll which I didn't even own. It was the middle of [the] night so I drifted back to sleep quickly, but awakened [the] next morning as if only one night had passed. I'm very thankful for answered prayer and the many blessings God has allowed me to enjoy over the years. As a result of “my miracle at ten,” I now enjoy the miracle of a wonderful Christian family, including my husband, two children (four by marriage), seven grandchildren (nine by marriage), and four great-grandchildren.  So let's all “Praise God from whom all Blessings Flow.” – Amen.