Family

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The pages of my grandmother’s Bible are not crisp and new.
They are soft; they are well worn.

The pages were turned by the hands of a Godly woman.
The same gentle hands that picked me up when I fell down.
The same hands that played such beautiful music upon the piano.

The pages have underlined verses and notes contained within them.
Names of children, grandchildren, great and even great-great-grandchildren can be found there.
Dates of when each was born; dates of when some were married; even dates of when some passed on.

My grandmother loved that Bible; she read it every single day.
With all of her heart, my grandmother loved the redeemer of whom the Bible spoke of.
Our Jesus, our Savior, who was sent to save this world.

That Bible traveled with my grandmother many times to Tennessee to Florida and then back again.
My grandmother would gladly let all who wanted to, read her Bible.
She never hesitated to share the good Word.

Some pages have spots from tears that have been cried over them.
Some tears were hers, some were mine that fell while I looked over those pages reminiscing.

I pray that one day, my granddaughter will look through the pages of my Bible.
Hopefully, she will find those pages to be worn, noted, cried upon, and loved.

God Bless You!

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