I went to the ceramics class with dear Miss Alice and then learned my oldest niece and nephew had attended day care next door to her many years ago. I actually met her forty years ago at the Post Office with my older sister, I was in high school and she ran in before picking up the kids from the day care. Who knew thirty years later we would do ceramics together. Miss Alice was such a dear sweet lady. I visited with her a few times at Jenny Lynn. Her loving spirit and calm demeanor just made you feel that whatever was going on it would be alright. She reminded me of my grandmother in that way, very spiritual women. You just knew they had peace deeply within. I have always been attracted to such ladies, hoping it would rub off. Of course, it doesn't rub, but they do share nuggets of wisdom if I pay attention. I am so grateful that I had the privilege of knowing Miss Alice and spending some time with her. I am so sorry for your family's loss but we all know where she is and we will see her again. She has no pain. Her memory is perfect and she is reunited with loved ones. May God watch over your family and bless you. Ginny Braddock 

We will miss Aunt Alice but know that she is now at peace.  We will always remember her as the kind, generous, and giving person that she was.  She was and always will be an Angel.

Gene, Sorry to hear about Miss Alice. I have many wonderful memories from my younger years of her kindness and beautiful spirit.  I know she will be greatly missed.
Sending you my family's sympathy in her passing.  Linda Lown Shealy

I posted this last week on Facebook. But, in case anyone missed it, I wanted to repost. My grandmother, Alice Rebecca Ellisor Adkins is no longer in pain.

Posted last week:

The other evening Candace and I went to visit my Grandmother, that is 95 years young. She stopped swallowing a few days ago and it won't be too much longer until she is with our Father in heaven and reunited with her husband, Colie, that she lost in the Korean War (see link below) when my Dad was only 4 years old. She raised my Dad, on her own, never remarried and never dated again. While we visited her, we had a few precious moments. Twice, it, seemed, she opened her eyes and looked at us with that familiar face she'd make when she'd see us, usually followed by a "Well, hey!" She didn't speak, but I think she recognized us. We stood there for almost 2 hours. Holding her hands, crying, telling her goodbye, and more crying. She did hold our hands back, and even reached for us several times when we tried to leave. I took pictures of us holding her hands. I'll post those when she passes. They were precious moments I'll never forget. I love her so very much and will miss her more than I can ever express.

She would watch my brothers and I after school when we were younger. She'd pick us up from school in her Chevelle, and take us back to her house, where we'd snack on cheese puffs, or celery and pimento cheese, grapes, or the occasional tomato sandwich. We'd do our homework, then go play outside in the yard, the trees, climb the large magnolia. Sometimes we'd help her shell beans, help with her ceramics, or sit while she watched her Atlanta Braves play in the evening.

In all of my 30-something years, I have never heard her speak badly about anyone. Ever. And, I only saw her get angry once when my Dad bought us fast food after she had already cooked dinner. But, that was the only time I ever saw her angry. She was always working in the garden, her yard, crocheting, canning food, working on her ceramics, and for a while volunteered at Irmo Elementary to teach the children how to crochet or garden. She also traveled when she was younger. She loved people, and everyone loved her.

She believed in hard work, family, tradition, to love another, and to love the Lord.  Family, love, kindness, grace, compassion, selflessness, and tradition meant so much to her. She was also there for others and was the true meaning of God's love and kindness to others. Every Sunday we ate dinner at her house where she always fixed roast beef, carrots, potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green beans and potatoes, noodles, cucumbers and tomatoes with vinegar, and cheese bread. If they were in season, she'd also include sometimes squash, corn, crowder peas, and other various things she either grew in the garden or something from another relative's garden. For dessert, she regular had pineapples on lettuce leaves with a dollop of cream cheese and a cherry on top. Or, maybe sometimes she'd have muscadine pie, where she picked the muscadines herself.

I wanted to post this poem because it could have been written about her. Every word. My grandmother will never know how much I appreciated her. And, as life goes, I didn't realize how much until I had gotten much older.  When I started to get to know her better, introducing her to my children, her memory began to fade. I love her, but she has lived more lifetimes than most. And is probably one of the strongest women I know. The lovely woman that runs the retirement home where she has been the last year said she was a blessing. She said that most people become mean and their true selves show when dementia kicks in. She said my grandmother, unlike most, became more kind and loving. She said was a true treasure. She was, truly. I love you, Granny. Hope to see you soon.

Grandmother's Hands Poem

I saw my grandmother sitting alone staring at her hands. I thought something was wrong and asked her about it. Grandmother asked, Have you ever really looked at your hands?

Grandmother continued, Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout the years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

They embraced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor. They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world I was married and loved someone special. They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand. They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of my life. But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.

She will be missed greatly... sending prayers your way.
With love,
Beverly, DJ, Ethan, and Garrett Barr

SORRY for your loss. May the peace that comes from GOD bring you comfort 2 CORINTHIABS 1:3

OBITUARY

Alice E Adkins

November 30, 1920 – June 12, 2016

Dunbar Funeral Home – Dutch Fork Chapel

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