This is a poem that I wrote for my Father.He has always prayed for all of us. (His children)
On Sunday mornings at 8am, we met our Dad in the living room.
My sister and I were wearing our stiff, wire curlers in our hair.
With our pajamas still on, in the corner, was a book shelf.
The cloth chair sat in the corner, next to the brick hearth.
My baby brother sat on one knee and I sat on the other knee.
My older brother and sister sat on the floor.
We learned about Jesus, as he read to us.
Love from my fathers heart overflowed, as he read those Bible stories.
With a smile on his face, it came very clear to me.
God is the Master, the very best you see.
Fold your hands in prayer, if you are willing to receive.
The lessons I learned and the stories I heard from my Dad were always the best. Better was how his life mirrored what he told us about Jesus. He practiced what he taught/preached. Thank you for the wonderful memory of long ago days!
The first two lines in this are so alive with memories and I was reading this and remembering my Mom's old curlers that I would wear as a kid, lol, and like you described, their stiffness. A loving portrait. Blessings, Michelle
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God bless you. Kathy