Another week, another family story – this time, about lifelong faith. (Listen here.)
My grandparents’ breakfast room opened off the kitchen. It had a brown sideboard, brown scratchy chairs and a brown shag pile carpet. Whenever my sister and I stayed with them, we participated in their morning ritual. First, we held hands and said grace. Then my sister and I would gobble up our breakfasts while our grandparents were still fussing around assembling theirs. Cornflakes. Sultanas. Bran. A bit of sugar. Milk. Yawn. My sister and I would sit swinging our legs, discreetly itching where the chairs scratched and waiting impatiently for our grandparents to finish eating. But even then, we couldn’t get down from the table for, after breakfast was cleared away, it was time for morning devotions.
Continue reading “Psalms | My grandparents’ breakfast table and other stories”