Lily Galloway is the perfect combination of weirdness – no – not weirdness – uniqueness and godliness I have ever seen, but it took me some time to figure out the godliness part. In fact, I’m 27 years old, and I want to be Lily when I grow up.

                Let me describe her to you. Lily is tall and thin with very high cheek bones.  She is 74 years old with long white hair like snow – not silver – snow.  She wears her hair in a bun on top of her head, like a crown.  Accompanying her regal dome of white, she always has a silk flower. Just a single bloom where the color, which changes every day, matches her long Bohemian dress or skirt.  Always, she wears sandals, no matter the season. 

                Lily is friendly, but she keeps to herself.  I never see anyone at her house, and only occasionally, do I see her walking up the street carrying a bag from Dandies.  I may be the only person she ever talks to, except maybe a clerk at the market, or her doctor, which I know she has to see every once in a while.   I have always figured the women of the town are turned off by this bad habit she has. Lily dips snuff.

                I see Lily every day when I get home from the elementary school where I teach third grade.  She’s always waiting for me at the fence that separates her yard from mine.

                “Hello, Crystal.  How’s the children?”

                “Oh, they’re lively like usual.  When you’re teaching third-graders, it’s a new adventure every day.”

                “Yep, those youngins’ll keep you on your toes.  Running a might late, aren’t you?”

                “Only a few minutes.  Had to stop at Dandies for some groceries,” I answer.

                “I have some turnip greens in my garden.  Would you like a mess?” she asks.

                Now, you never tell Lily “no” when she offers you anything.  If you know her, you know that would hurt her feelings.

                “I’d love some,” I say.  “But, just a little.  You know it’s just me and John.”

                John is my black lab.  I’ve had him for almost three years.  He’s named after my grandpapa. Papa was the love of my life.  Now, Papa liked everybody, but John is pretty snooty about whom he associates with.  He’s kind of closeminded, if you know what I mean.

                “Well, you go put your belongings away, take care of John, and by then, I’ll have picked you a mess of turnip greens.”

                I return about 15 minutes later, and Lily is waiting at the fence.  “I threw in half dozen eggs.  My girls are really laying right now.”

                I thank her and ask her what she plans to do with her evening.

                “Oh, it’s going to be a full moon tonight.” she says. “I need to put special attention on my garden.  Did I tell you I’m making a Covid garden this year?  Biggest I’ve done yet.  Takes up almost the entire backyard, except where the girls’ coop is.”

                “No, I don’t believe you did.  That’s really nice of you,” I say.

                “I don’t know about that, but folks been hit hard around here.  The earth needs more than ever to share her bounty.  Of course, more than ever, we need to be taking care of old Mother Nature.”

                “How are you going to let people know you want to share your vegetables?” I ask.

                “Oh, I just figure I’ll put a sign up in the yard, and folks’ll come on over.  Or maybe, I’ll just leave bags of produce in the yard.  People aren’t wanting to get too close these days.”

                Once again, I know this will be a problem. Now, there’s a story here.  Bear with me.

Remember what I said about Lily getting her feelings hurt if you don’t take her offerings? Well, I know nobody will take any of her bags of vegetables.  You see, people keep their distance from Lily.  Some even think she is a danger to their children.  Emma Jean Thatcher, said in church that Lily is a heathen.  Once at Dandies, Emma Jean asked me if I wasn’t scared to live next door to Lily.

Now, Lily is a full-blooded Cherokee, and she doesn’t go to church.  In Pickens, if you don’t attend church service at least once a week, well, you are just bound for hell.

One of children at school, Wayne, told me that his mee-maw said that the “crazy” lady who lives next to me is a witch and demon-possessed.  He crooked his index finger for me to bend closer to him and whispered, “Mee-maw says that ain’t snuff she dips.  It’s the juice left over from little children she’s cooked and eaten.”

I was shocked.  All I could think to say was, “Isn’t snuff.  It’s not ain’t. It’s isn’t snuff.”

Wayne backed away and put his hand over his mouth. “You think she’s eating children, too?”

So, you can see why I am trying to figure out a way to keep this beautiful, good-hearted woman from knowing what people are saying about her in town.

“Lily, I have a better idea.  Vegetables can wilt sitting in the sun all day.  On Wednesdays, I get out of school early, and I could deliver them for you.”

“Oh, Crystal, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Lily says.

“Why not, and you could pay me in eggs.  I can just see the omelets I’m going to make for myself with those beauties.  Besides, it’ll give me a chance to check on my kids and their families during this Covid.”

Lily thinks for a minute.  “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

So, now you know how it came about that I am delivering produce on my short Wednesdays from the back of my Honda CRV.

That night, I lay in bed, mentally composing the route I will take for my deliveries when I hear moaning or chanting and a periodic ringing of a bell.  I follow the sound to the side of my house adjacent to Lily’s.  By the brightness of the full moon, I see Lily in her backyard.  She is dancing, or should I say, swaying up and down the rows between her plants.  She is holding what appears to be a wand or stick in one hand, and at different points between each row, she taps a bell, which is in her other hand.  Then, she lifts her arms and turns her face upward.  Her words are something I can’t make out, except one, which she keeps repeating over and over. It sounds like, “Oo-net-la-nuh-hee.”

Suddenly, fear takes over me.  Are the town’s people right?  I don’t believe in witches, but does Lily think she is one?

Yet, as I watch her, there is a beauty and worshipful countenance about her actions.  Who or what is she worshiping? I gasp.  Right then, I concluded that Lily, while not a demon or witch, is one of those Mother Earth worshipers.  Her looks, her obsession with gardens, and her constant talk of human progress poisoning the earth and souls all lead me to realize that my sweet next-door neighbor is a genuine, tree-hugging pagan.

How wrong I was.  What does the Bible say in Mark?  “For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts. . .”

The next day, as usual, Lily is waiting for me at the fence.  “Hello, Miss Crystal.  Have you had a good day?”

I want to go straight into my house, so I give a quick, “Fine thank you,” and keep heading for my front porch.

“My, you’re in a big hurry.  Come on over hear and talk to me.  You’re about the only one I ever get to chat with.”

As I walk toward her, she turns her head and spits her snuff onto the ground behind the fence.  She has done that many times before, but this time it is disgusting to watch.

“Listen,” Lily says, “tomorrow’s Wednesday, and I thought you might come over and help me bag up some vegetables.  I have turnips, lettuce, and some cabbage.  Also have you a dozen eggs.”

Helping Lily pick produce is not part of the deal, but what could I say?

“All right,” I call from my porch.  “Just let me change my clothes.”

Though I really don’t want to cross the fence – in truth, I have never talked to Lily except over the barrier – the Bible also says we should be kind to everybody, so I feel I won’t be a good Christian if I don’t go over there.  I knock on the little side fence gate, and her sing-songy voice tells me to come in.

She has two cold drinks sitting on a white plastic table between two, white plastic chairs.

“Sit down and take a load off.  I made us some drinks.”

I sit and look at the unusually-colored liquid. 

She must have seen me eyeing the concoctions.  “It’s my own mixture of huckleberry juice, mint and honey.  I think you’ll like it.  The earth just outdoes itself no matter the season.

Tentatively, I sip.  Though a bit tart, the flavor was really good.

“You like it?  Lily asks.

“Yes, I do,” I say.  At this moment, I am ashamed to confess the witch’s brew I thought this drink was.

Lily sits down.  I watch her spit into her spit can and swish with some water into her mouth.  She then sprays the water on the ground.

“Sorry,” she says.  “Can’t drink ‘til I get my snuff out of my mouth.”

“May I ask you why you use it?”

“’Course you can.  Back up in the hills, most people dip or chew.  Not so much today, but that’s how it used to be.”

“So, it was just something you did?”

“Yeah, I guess you could put it like that.  You know, when we come to God, He takes us the way we are.”

God?  Lily knows God?

She continues.  “Yeah, snuff and all. Then, once we’re His, He begins the change.  Guess He just hasn’t gotten to the snuff part of me yet.”

“How – I mean – how long have you been a Christian?” I ask.

“Oh, my goodness, since I was about eight.  Then, I married Laith Galloway.  He became a preacher like his daddy, old Tavish.  Tavish married himself a Cherokee woman.  Guess that’s why Laith was drawn to me.”

“You mean you were a preacher’s wife while you dipped snuff?”

“Sweet child, why are you so caught up on my snuff.  Outside stuff don’t matter to Jesus as much as what’s in here.”  She taps her chest.

“But, we do have a witness to uphold?” I say.

“And, I do.” Lily says.  “Why do you think you’re going to be taking my vegetables around to these folks.  I’d give it to them myself if they’d come visit for a spell.  But, getting folks around here to want to talk is about like trying to get an old billy goat to give milk.  Except for you, of course.”

“Why’d you move into the valley?”

Lily takes a long drink of her juice.  “Laith up and died on me.  There wasn’t anybody to take his place, so the church just folded.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

                “Oh, life has its way.  Lord said it was time for Laith to go home. So, had no youngins. Our two twin boys were stillborn, and I needed to be near a doctor with my high blood pressure.  Sold mine and Laith’s spread and bought this place.  Doctor’s just down the street.”

                I ask her about what I saw the night before. 

                She laughs and nods. “Oh my word, you caught me praying over my garden.  You know nothing really grows without prayer.  So, I was asking God to bless my garden and the folks who get some.”

                I begin to feel very small.

                “What was that word you kept repeating?” I ask.  “It sounded sort of like, “ooneflanahe.’”

                Lily laughs.  “You mean ‘Unetlanvhi.’  That is Cherokee for the Great Spirit, or God.  Cherokees have always believed there is only one God.  So, when we learned about Jesus, the whole gospel message just made sense to us.”

                Pretty soon, I am going to be so small, Lily won’t be able to see me.  “Why don’t you go to church?”  I ask.

                “I did a couple times.  Nobody spoke to me.  Had enough sense not to even bring my snuff.  I could tell those people just didn’t understand me, and I made them feel uncomfortable. So, I quit going.”

                Suddenly, I feel so stupid, and I don’t want to disclose that stupidity, so I finish my drink and say, “Lily, I think I could sit and talk to you all day, but we’ve got to pick and bag those vegetables.  I have to make deliveries tomorrow.

                Now, before I close, you need to know that the deliveries went well.  When I told my recipients who grew their gifts, some showed looks of shock, others shame.

                Oh, and one more thing.  At Wally and Irene Wilson’s house, they had a new litter of basset pups.  One was female, and she was the runt.  They asked me if I would take the little thing.  I couldn’t say no.  So, now John has a sister, but since she’s different, he doesn’t quite know what to make of her yet.  Guess what I named her?  Yep, you’re right.  Lily.