I was sorting through boxes a couple months ago. Organizing, storing, reading old letters I’ve kept for decades and hauled with me on each successive move since the early 90s.
I lugged out a banker’s box of letters from my Gustavus days. The box contents were an unsorted mess. But in the middle, poking out as if trying to get my attention, was THIS.
A daily prayer that my grandmother wrote me, who knows how many years ago. To be honest, I’m a bit surprised I kept it at the time. I am a lapsed Lutheran and don’t hold a lot of sentiment for religious items in my personal life. I resisted Sunday School as a kid (as much as I was able to). I also didn’t attend church unless absolutely required. I tried attending Ebenzer Lutheran in Chicago because my friend Nathan did, and I loved hanging out with him. I appreciated the fellowship, tradition, and ceremony of the Sunday morning services at Ebenezer, but lacked a genuine connection.
Fast forward some 20+ years and I live in Jackson, Mississippi–some call it the buckle of the Bible Belt. Very few Lutheran churches, but Jesus is everywhere here. It takes some getting used to as an LL (lapsed Lutheran). In Chicago, there is an old expression that for every block there is a bar. In Jackson, it’s a church, which I’m actually fine with. The churches are beautiful here. Who doesn’t love beauty?
But back to this box. This daily prayer. When I pulled it out, it kind of took my breath away. It’s like it was waiting for me to find it. I love my grandmother’s spidery writing, and I also love the simplicity of the prayer’s message. I placed the prayer in a frame and have it in my office. Reading it reminds me of my grandmother’s demeanor and smile, which were always sunny and bright and which I attribute to her love of God, family, and her Lutheran church in Minneapolis. Amen.