I remember very little about this little lady, except for the fact that she smelled like lavender. She probably stood about 5 foot tall and maybe weighed 100 pounds. My Grandma slid me onto the pew beside her. My feet did not touch the floor. I watched Grandma's back as she slid out of the pew and walked up on the platform to play the piano for the Church service. Grandpa was sitting in the back with the rest of the ushers.
The tiny one room Church with it's ten pews on each side of the aisle smelled like "coal oil". The old furnace has now been replaced.
As the service began, Miss Minnie held out her white gloved hand to help me stand. When I couldn't see over the pew directly in front of me, she attempted to help me stand on the pew, much to my Grandmother's horror.
As the pastor made his way down the center aisle to the podium, my eyes rested on the picture hanging on the wall directly between him and my grandmother. The picture was "Jesus at the door knocking".
All through my childhood, my teen years and early adulthood that picture was part of my life.
One day while I was waiting for the Church service to begin, basking in the sun coming through the stained glass windows, I looked at that picture and saw it for the first time.
There is no handle on this side of the door. The door must be opened from the inside.
From time to time I have the privilege of visiting that little country church. My heart still swells with pride when I walk through those doors. My grandparents are long gone, but their memory lingers there.
And that picture remains on the wall. Waiting for me to open the door and invite HIM in.