It has been said that my Grandpa Friedrich Joachim Christian Topp would never swear even with a mouthful of-well, you get the picture. Grandpa was a good man. He raised six sons in the early 1900’s one of which was my dad, Ervin Edward, also known as Curly.
My dad was a good man, too. At times he used profanity. I have also, in anger. Spontaneously. Easily.
Not so with praying aloud.
Prayers were not commonly said in our home. We would say grace when company came over for a meal.
They were never led by my father.
Mom, Thelma, made sure our family got to church. My sisters and I also went to Sunday school. Later I belonged to MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship), led by our pastor. After mom was wheelchair-bound with rheumatoid arthritis, we went less often. After mom died at the age of 57, Dad and I continued to go.
In junior high, I joined the church choir. I sang bass. Singing was a draw for me. I had a love of music. Hearing the harmony of the four parts was an attraction. The words of hymns have their own sermon. Each song, in its way, spoke messages of faith. I would be comforted by the encouraging words. They brought me closer to God in the realization that He really cares about me.
You see, after Glenda, the youngest of my three older sisters, graduated from high school, the responsibility of taking care of mom fell to me, her teenage son.
I know I learned compassion for the less fortunate by taking care of her. When she died, Dad and I knew she was in a better place. She had suffered so much.
Praying silently, easily. Praying alone in my quiet times, I find comfort in solitude with the Lord.
God brings so much joy and happiness into my life. There is comfort, fellowship, love, and satisfaction.
I am so thankful to be blessed with a faith that continues to grow.