When I was a kid, Sunday mornings were the only mornings that my parents got to sleep late. They never went to church until my later teenage years when life had dealt our family a lot of lemons. But, they didn't stop me from going to church, so I got up, got dressed, and without waking them, walked the two blocks down the dirt road, and around the bend to Faith Community Baptist Church where Brother Land preached every Sunday and Wednesday. I looked forward to that time -- and, if I didn't show up, Brother Land would later call and check on me. I think that is how he found out I had my tonsils out when he came to the hospital to see me and bring me my first Bible.
This particular Sunday, my sister, Keysha K Smith wanted to go with me. She was only three years old. I was six years older than her, about nine. She put on her shorts and her sandals and I took her by the hand and walked with her to church. I showed her her sunday school room (which was the nursery) and we enjoyed church together after.
When I got home, my parents were up and upset. They had been frantic, looking for Keysha. She was only a baby. They did not scold me, however, for taking my sister to church with me. They did make sure that I understood that I was not to take her again without telling them.
I will never forget that day for as long as I live.
Today, my sister, like me, loves the Lord, and is striving to put God first and let Jesus take the wheel, in spite of her humanity and in effort to set an example for her own children. I am proud of her.
Luke 2:49
And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?
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