I came across an article today, and it really resonated with me. I reminisce of family gatherings I grew up with. I can taste the sweetened turnip roots and fried cornbread that I ate every year. I miss them dearly. But my grandparents and even Aunts and Uncles have passed away. I long for the times of seeing their wrinkly smiles smirking at the little ones and tired, aged eyes brightened by the youngest’s dance. It’s true. The family gathering is a dying tradition. BUT…. I am so happy that my small children have an opportunity to still experience it. I’m fortunate that every Sunday evening at 6 pm I can experience this again with my kids. We aren’t all related by blood, but we are related through Jesus. Older folks pat me on the back, graciously give hugs and even belly laugh as my 4 year old tells a joke with no punchline. They remind my girls to slow down and stop running, fearing they will trip and fall. They bring a dish that reminds me of my Nana’s. Every. Single. Week. They are my village. They are my family and my children see them as theirs. And… on the evening of a cold rainy Sunday, they are there to share stories, recipes, encouraging words and the love of Jesus.
If you are missing your family or wish to extend it, please join us on Sunday at 6. We’d love to have you.                                      –Kristin 12/2019