Some Stories Just Won’t Leave You Alone
- Matt Jolley
- Aug 21, 2025
- 5 min read
GEORGIA FOLK AND FARM LIFE - There are some stories that just won’t leave you alone. They come to visit when you least expect it—like an old friend showing up unannounced. Today, one came calling while I was driving down Highway 27.
Last October, our local paper here in Carroll County, The Times-Georgian, ran an article about the late Mayhayley Lancaster. I’d never heard of her before, but that last name stopped me in my tracks. There’s Lancaster blood in my family. A good many of my kin are buried in the Lancaster Family Cemetery back in Bell County, Texas. And ever since we planted roots here in Georgia, I’ve been searching for signs of those in my line who once lived here too. Somewhere, there’s a grandmother—with too many “greats” before her name to keep straight—who was born in Georgia. Grandma Polly wasn’t the only one, I’m sure. So, when I saw the name Lancaster, I perked up.
Turns out, this Mayhayley Lancaster was something special. She was one of the first women in Georgia to attend law school and set up practice around Heard County. She’d already been a noted midwife, and along the way even ran for office. But what really set her apart wasn’t the trailblazing—it was her spiritual gifts. Mayhayley was born with a caul over her face. Now, around here, folks will tell you that any child born with part of the amniotic sac still covering them has something extraordinary about them. Some call it a gift, some call it a curse—but everybody calls it unusual.
And unusual fit Mayhayley just fine. Her spiritual gifts made her known far and wide. She’s even credited with helping solve one of Coweta County’s most infamous murders—the case that inspired the book and film, Murder in Coweta County. Andy Griffith played John Wallace, Johnny Cash played Sheriff Lamar Potts, and June Carter herself played Miss Mayhayley. That film has played in my living room more than once since I stumbled across her story.
Like most folks who carry spiritual gifts, Mayhayley didn’t exactly fit neatly into society’s box, especially in the early 1900s. And that’s what fascinates me—not so much what she did, but how she went about doing it. She also had her quirks, like all of us. After her brother was killed in World War I, she took to wearing his U.S. Army cap. Some folks probably thought that peculiar, but I see it as a tender way of keeping him close. We all know grief comes in all shapes and sizes, and for Mayhayley, maybe that cap was a comfort and a connection when nothing else would do.
And then there was her glass eye—after an unfortunate accident with a hat pin. In some of the old photographs, it looks like she’s giving the hairy eyeball, but I figure that was just her way of managing with that eye. People notice things like that and make their judgments, but to me it just adds another layer to her story. Now, like any good businesswoman, she leaned into the self-proclaimed title of “Oracle of the Ages,” dressing the part in some pictures. I can’t help but wonder what she’d say about all that later in life. Was it marketing? Showmanship? Or just her way of providing for her worldly needs in a time when women had precious few options? Probably some of each.
After reading that first article, I started poking around more. I was shocked to find that all these years I’d been bouncing around Carroll County, her grave was just about a mile from the grass strip I’ve flown out of countless times. So of course, I had to go see it.
She’s buried alongside her people at her church. I’ll admit, standing there left me with a mix of sadness and admiration. History hasn’t always been kind to her. It’s easier to call someone a witch or a fortune teller than to honor the spiritual gifts they used to help their neighbors. Yet, the stories folks tell—the ones you hear over coffee or on a front porch swing—are never about witchcraft. They’re about the little things.
“She helped my granddaddy find his wallet and keys. That woman was no joke.” That’s the kind of story I keep hearing. The simple, everyday mercies that make life a little easier. And of course, we can’t forget that whole solving-a-murder business.
When I’ve asked around, folks in Heard County usually fall into two camps: they laugh her off as folklore, or they celebrate her as a woman who broke barriers long before it was fashionable. But to me, it always circles back to this—she had spiritual gifts, and she used them to keep a roof over her head, to care for her mama, to farm her land, and yes, to help her neighbors.
She famously asked a dollar for her needs—and a dime for her dogs. That kind of detail sticks with you. Folks say she had cash stashed around, which, in those days, was a dangerous thing. Some say it made her a target. But it also made her a survivor.
It’s worth remembering that in the earliest days of the Christian church, people with spiritual gifts were celebrated. Read the book of Acts, flip through the stories of Paul, Jeremiah, John the Baptist—even the Magi. The Christian faith is built on men and women called for miraculous purposes. Yet here in modern-day Ephesus, Georgia, this lady with spiritual gifts was often misunderstood.
Her first headstone was vandalized, but on the second, these words from the Gospel of John are engraved: “For not even his brothers believed in him.” If even Jesus was doubted by those closest to Him, it’s no wonder Mayhayley caught her share of sideways glances.
Today, instead of heading to the airfield, I found myself driving down to Franklin, Georgia, to visit the old county jail—now home to the Heard County Historical Society. Miss Kathy there was kind enough to share their archives with me, and I left with the sense that this story is just beginning. Because you see, Miss Mayhayley is exactly the kind of person Georgia Folk and Farm Life is all about. An oddball farmer who loved her church, loved her family, loved her neighbors, and loved the Lord. She wasn’t perfect—none of us are—but she used what she had, spiritual gifts and all, to leave a mark.
I don’t yet know where this breadcrumb trail is going to lead me, but I’ll keep following it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even find out we’re kin. After all, her brother Sam did move to Texas…
More to come for sure.
~Matt Jolley
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