he shall be our guide for evermore.
It has been a long time since I have thought of my grandmother, but this morning she is here, in her smart tailored dress and matched shoes, bringing with her the elegant house in the center of the small farming town in the Midwest.
The chair I sit in came from her front room, where I remember formal visits with her friends and Christmas mornings with my family. I trace the memories back and call forward the kitchen wallpaper, the brick patio, breakfasts with my grandfather who always put half-and-half on his cereal. And summer visits, which included the wooden church with the red door.
Church was a given, whether at home or on vacation or at my grandparents, and as much a part of the fabric of my life as my mother’s own stories of her early faith formation.
The strength I have is equal parts God-given and inherited, and even that which has been passed down to me connects me to the Creator of the universe who is the source of the faith of my mother and grandmother. And to this legacy, on a daily basis, I fold in the resources I have discovered along the way as granddaughter, daughter, sister, spouse, and mother.
Although I am often lost along the way, God has been and will ever be my guide, a love I can trace in any direction.