From the Morning Psalm, read from my mother's front porch with my morning coffee.
I'm always struck with how God works out timing. I come to visit my mom almost every year around the Fourth of July, and this year's planned travel dates got rearranged by a rescheduled dental appointment.
But as God would have it, I am here to help my mother with some family business that I'd have missed had I come when I'd wanted to be here. It's nothing my mom couldn't do on her own, but it's good for me to be here to support her.
Today we close on the sale of my Grandmother's home in Sedalia, Texas. That's outside Westminster, near Anna and Van Alstyne. We're selling five acres of land and the house, but will retain a big portion of farm land.
It's bittersweet. Grandma Blanche died thirty years ago. Good renters lived there for several years, but they've moved, and it's time for the burden of maintaining the house to be removed from my mom's shoulders.
Grandma Blanche taught me much about prayer and the Bible and serving God. Every summer of my childhood included a visit to her farm. In fact, the first time I served in a church was at Vacation Bible School at Westminister Baptist Church. She gave me a book about the missionary, Lottie Moon; it was reading that book over and over that would lead me to hearing my call to ordained ministry.
Those visits to Grandma Blanches's are filled with so many memories--all joyful. A dining room table laden with food mostly grown by her, a bounty prepared just for the two of us. Sitting in front of the TV watching whatever I wanted, shelling black eyed peas. Riding around in her 1940 Ford, holes in the floorboard that gave a great view of the chalk rock road flying beneath us. Receiving one of her big bosomy hugs that smelled of her garden. Her head thrown back as she laughed with exuberance. Most of all I remember how much she loved me and delighted in having me around.
Grandma's white frame house represented that love for me. It's not the love, of course. That's a treasure in my heart that lives everywhere and always. I'm sad to finally close that door in my life, but the door of those memories is wide open.
It was Grandma's love that taught me so much about God's love for me.
A bountiful table.
An open Bible.
Quiet prayer in the morning.
Delighted laughter.
Love no matter what.
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