Sunday Service

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My brother always has at least two jobs. One of them is pastoring a church. I really love to go hear him preach, but I did not get to last Sunday. Last Sunday they had a singing service. I think it is what they do when they have a month with five Sundays. What a blessing. Here again, I have memories spilling over. This is a small church but it is the denomination I grew up with, the hymnal I am familiar with. As people requested songs, one person or another would mention someone who is no longer with them and say "This was so and so's favorite". In the course of the morning we also sang the only song I ever sang with my mother and older sister. . . and the first song I ever did as a special, with my older sister, when I was about six or seven. We had dresses alike that Mom had made us. At the time that style was referred to as a "squaw dress". How politically incorrect. Dad was glad we came to church, but got upset with himself when he could not see to read, and could not hear the numbers called out. I helped him out, but he called himself dumb. When I was growing up, dad had nothing to do with the church. That changed when he was in his early sixties. He always has had a Christian attitude, but it was late in life he had a relationship with Christ. I was glad to share the morning with him.