I was very blessed to have both of my grandmothers well into adulthood. They were as different as could be, but their love of Jesus and their families united them like sisters. I don’t remember my tiny little Gram B ever singing. I don’t remember robust Grama Sandy ever NOT singing (My secret dream is to be able to sing as beautifully as her).
I probably will never be very good at sitting still. But I am learning. Learning to hear God’s voice in the noise of this world, in the silence of my yard, in the song of the birds, and by the posture of my heart.
The greatest gift my earthly father gave me was to point me to my Heavenly Father. The greatest gift I can give my father for Father’s Day is to live my life for the One who gave His life for me.
I can almost hear the groans when another mug finds its way into my cupboard. “Do you really need another mug?” No, I do not need another vehicle for getting caffeine into my bloodstream. However, quite some time ago, my mug cupboard became my prayer closet.
This Friday, Good Friday, the Friday before Resurrection Sunday is especially important. It the day that we remember His Finished work on the cross. It is because of His death that we can have forgiveness; because of His stripes we can be healed; because of His resurrection we can have everlasting life, life more abundant.