This morning, Mallorie texted me and said,
“Could we possibly join the church today?”
Click here and listen to this song. It’s what I’m doing while I write. It’s how my heart feels.
And so, after a couple years of sharing our pew with Jim, Mal and Lucy—my family, who also happen to be our dearest friends, they officially became part of our church family today, too. And when they walked down front with baby girl after communion, I couldn’t stop my eyes from filling with tears. You could feel the collective warmth of every heart in the room—anytime a young family makes a commitment to the church it feels like springtime, doesn’t it?
For me, it was more than that. It’s the beginning of a new tradition that began with our grandparents at their home church and that we’re now picking up and carrying on at our own church just a few miles down the road.
Afterward, everyone in the church comes down front to give them hugs and welcome them into the family. Lucy waved at them all and told them, “Baby.”
I spent the rest of the dreary afternoon painting an Ohio cottage called Spice Acres, daydreaming of fall days to come with my pumpkin candle burning close by. It couldn’t have been a more perfect Sunday.
Our next door neighbors’ beautiful mediterranean house makes me pretend we live in some lovely California town sometimes.