Family Embrace
Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. Joel 1:3
When my parents died unexpectedly, my heart burned with regret. As I sought my own destiny, curiosity about their pasts never piqued. I knew they’d met during at a USO dance on Dad’s way overseas, but little more. Suddenly they were gone, and tears spilled for the stories I would never hear, the history I could never pass down to my daughters. Why didn’t they share more of their lives? Why didn’t I ever ask?
As a rain drizzled outside, I stood in their empty garage—the last of my clean-up tasks—saying goodbye to them. About to lock the door, my eyes were drawn to a bit of cardboard jutting out from high in the rafters. Something I’d missed?
About to toss the tattered box full of old papers, I glanced inside. There were letters, dozens of them, all dated during World War II. Letters from a war familiar to me only in the movies. I dashed into the house and sat on the carpet with my find.
I was captivated by these first-hand accounts of America during a time of uncertainty. My mother wrote about bond drives, victory gardens, and
being a Junior Hostess with the USO: “I’m jitterbugging my way through the war, getting corns for my country. Every soldier I dance with makes me think of you.”
I was wrapped in a family embrace that day; Mom, Dad and my Heavenly Father. God had led to that discovery, a box, stashed and forgotten. It was his gift for me to pass down; a glimpse into my parents’ hearts, their passion, their patriotism. It has become my prize as I’ve grown to love my parents and my God so much more.
Prayer: Lord, thank you for your divine love and the myriad of wonderful ways you surprise us with your presence.
Story first appeared in Intimate Encounters with God, compiled by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson
Family Embrace
Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it to their children, and their children to the next generation. Joel 1:3
When my parents died unexpectedly, my heart burned with regret. As I sought my own destiny, curiosity about their pasts never piqued. I knew they’d met during at a USO dance on Dad’s way overseas, but little more. Suddenly they were gone, and tears spilled for the stories I would never hear, the history I could never pass down to my daughters. Why didn’t they share more of their lives? Why didn’t I ever ask?
As a rain drizzled outside, I stood in their empty garage—the last of my clean-up tasks—saying goodbye to them. About to lock the door, my eyes were drawn to a bit of cardboard jutting out from high in the rafters. Something I’d missed?
About to toss the tattered box full of old papers, I glanced inside. There were letters, dozens of them, all dated during World War II. Letters from a war familiar to me only in the movies. I dashed into the house and sat on the carpet with my find.
I was captivated by these first-hand accounts of America during a time of uncertainty. My mother wrote about bond drives, victory gardens, and
being a Junior Hostess with the USO: “I’m jitterbugging my way through the war, getting corns for my country. Every soldier I dance with makes me think of you.”
I was wrapped in a family embrace that day; Mom, Dad and my Heavenly Father. God had led to that discovery, a box, stashed and forgotten. It was his gift for me to pass down; a glimpse into my parents’ hearts, their passion, their patriotism. It has become my prize as I’ve grown to love my parents and my God so much more.
Prayer: Lord, thank you for your divine love and the myriad of wonderful ways you surprise us with your presence.
Story first appeared in Intimate Encounters with God, compiled by Linda Evans Shepherd and Eva Marie Everson