I was raised in a very active church family. My dad was always superintendent of something and ran the church kitchen, and my mom was the lead kindergarten teacher for Sunday school, and the day school. We sat in the same spot, on the same pew every Sunday, left front 7 pews back, right next to the choir loft, so my mom could sing along with the choir. I remember her funeral for many reasons, but one that haunted me for years was that we were in the wrong pew. The week after her funeral I went back to our Church several times and sat in our pew, held her hymnal and listen to her sing. Never doubt the awesome power of love.
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