Thursday, April 17, 2014

160th Post - Heritage

"His faithful foll'wer I would be"...

I awoke to these words from an old hymn swirling in my heart. Leaning into the peace of the message, my reflection eventually rested in the image of sitting next to my Omie in church. My head buried in her warm, soft, fur coat. The smell of mothballs ever so slight, stirred my senses. This memory is so much more than the image, the smell, the nostalgia.

There is comfort in the memory. There is strength in the memory. There is a nudging in the memory. How will my grandchildren remember me? Am I passing on the strength of my faith? I know I play with them, shop with them, laugh with them. I know they know I love them.


Do they know how my faith has sustained me? Will they know without a doubt that Grandma Cary-all, is a Jesus-follower? A God-lover? Completely sold out to life built on faith.

My Omie never preached to me. I rarely remember her quoting scripture. I probably watched more soap operas with her, than we ever sat and read the Bible. Yet, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she loved God and He loved her. Even without the details of her story, I knew He was with her every step of her journey.

May I be mindful to pass that unwavering knowing to my own children and grandchildren. May they know without a shadow of a doubt that HE has sustained me. He is my comfort, my peace, my hope, my solid rock.

As we go into another Easter, I return to this hymn of old. Oh the wonder that these words of another generation, still speak to me today.

He leadeth me, O blessed thought!
O words with heav’nly comfort fraught!
Whate’er I do, where’er I be
Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.
He leadeth me, He leadeth me,
By His own hand He leadeth me;
His faithful foll’wer I would be,
For by His hand He leadeth me.
Sometimes ’mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom,
By waters still, o’er troubled sea,
Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me.
Lord, I would place my hand in Thine,
Nor ever murmur nor repine;
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since ’tis my God that leadeth me.
And when my task on earth is done,
When by Thy grace the vict’ry’s won,
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,
Since God through Jordan leadeth me.

Blessing to you all,