"I know who holds the future, and I know who holds my hand."

an email to two friends I've had since high school, . . . about times from so very long ago . .

"So I'm at church this morning. First time I've been in a long time. And you know I really do enjoy going to church. And I really enjoy going here in Midtown.

So anyway, the service is nice, the songs by the choir are just exceptional today, the sermon was good. . . and then the closing song is "I know who holds tomorrow, and I know who holds my hand."

"Many things about tomorrow, I don't seem to understand" but I kind of let memories wash over me of the voices of Mrs. Peggy and Mrs. Mary, of a crowded back pew with the other kids . . . the way on Sunday morning I always sought out the pew with Moma Judy but on Sunday night sought out that back pew with the other teenagers. . . the sound of those two hollow doors on the swinging hinges . . . or the echoing sounds in the small fellowship hall. Or the way everyone had their spot, and some of the ladies of a mature age left afghans in their seat. So many good memories.

Gosh, that was a great place and a great time. ut the days and nights of church in a small Missionary Baptist Church, a long time ago . . .