“…to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night.”
~Psalm 92:2~

When we were with Grandma Sunday morning she wanted us to go around and share our testimonies, the stories about how and when we accepted the Lord. My sister and I were in our room for rest time and I told her I was going to ask Jesus into my heart. We were on the floor with our pillows next to each other. This seemed like something that was intimate and private so I put my head under my pillow and prayed.

I was four. She was three. Later around age five I wanted to ask him again. We came home from Vacation Bible School and I told Mom this time. She prayed with me and it was kind of a big deal. She told Dad and he was happy and there was a family meeting on the couch. I never doubted my salvation. The repeated askings were only feeble attempts to get me closer, to bring me nearer to this one I loved so much.

Like it was the only way I knew how to express it, this come to me, be with me that God had awakened. Like a breath is not enough and the exhale takes longer. About every 10-15 she would ask us again, wanting us to share our stories. This is new, but it is not, and we loved her more and more because of it. And she was satisfied with our answers because answers weren’t the point, only God unending who fills in the gaps.