As I reflect on what we did have as a community and a church in those days, maybe we did have traditions after all. Traditions that formed me, inspired my devotion and instilled in me Scripture that I still know. The generosity of potlucks and the reverence of making Sunday unlike any other day of the week.
While I can often focus on myself, it is the methodical liturgical practices that force me to hope in Jesus.
So, the day came in 1965 when Ms. Rose and Momma prayed through. Momma turned from her wicked ways and found Jesus. My oh my what happened in our home was better than any sitcom.
When I lived in the Middle East I shared several iftar meals like this one with friends. Iftar in Arabic literally means, “break the fast...” I don’t just go to learn about their faith; I go to learn about my own.
My daughter has many other women who mother her, though. They teach her things and instill qualities in her I cannot offer on my own. I willingly share the spotlight with them.