He comes Friday for lunch, like always, and we meet in the doorway and, always, we wrap arms, me the daughter-in-law, him the worn father of the man whose ring I wear. He pats my back, and I brush his cheek.
He’s seventy-five and he takes my seat and I bring the dish of squash, the plate of pork roast. Children wash hands.
“I saw Pete today over at the home farm.” Opa smiles, nods. I serve potatoes. Pete’s our age, married to Opa’s grand-daughter. Farmer Husband smiles, nods too, the language of men.
“And how’s Pete?”
“Oh, we were talking of the things of the Lord, and I told him I was working on memorizing from Ephesians this week, another three verses this morning, and Pete, he just says, “Can I hear your verses?” He just asks to hear them right there in the farmyard!” Opa’s chuckling now, his cheeks blushing bashful child
“I didn’t have anything on me, not a Bible or cue cards or anything, and I wasn’t really expecting that…” He’s grinning. “But by His grace, I was able to say it, that whole chapter of Ephesians…”
And I grin, pat his shoulder, pass the water down to Farmer Husband.
“And then Pete… ” Opa looks over at me, wide-eyed, the child joy of man faith. “Pete, he asks me, “Would you mind listening to what I’m memorizing?” He was memorizing too and wanted to share! I wasn’t expecting that either!” He laughs, the joy of men spontaneously speaking ancient Words, dialect of Home.
I was inspired…so Psalm 27 it is, a verse a day between now and Thanksgiving, full of lots to give thanks for. I’ll post my verse for the day each day. If you want to join in, go for it!