Today I went to church.
The church I went to as a child with my mother and my grandmother.
The familiar smell and familiar faces brought back a million memories.
The pew cushions and carpet that are a matching deep red and the buttons on the cushions I used to play with.
The metal ovals with the pew numbers on the end of each pew I used to trace with my fingers.
The carving of the last supper at the front that used to mesmerize me, behind the minister who baptized me.
I remember wearing the dress my grandmother made me for pioneer day and making ice cream from scratch.
I remember sitting in the front pew watching my mother in choir practice and watching her sing every Sunday.
I remember my grandmother playing the piano and teaching me the hymns.
But today I found myself in this church for a different reason.
A grown woman, watching my daughter trace the numbers on the end of the pew.
My mother singing Amazing Grace.
A box, with a framed photo of my grandmother sits on top of the carving of the last supper.
The woman who brought us all to this place has now brought us all back to say goodbye.
As we sing Jesus Loves Me, I’m a child, sitting beside my grandmother at her house while she plays and sings.
Then I see my mom, so happy my daughter knows the words and I know Grandma would be happy to see us here today.