A Sabbath Memory

Yesterday Karen and I went to the Piedmont Church. As many churches are wont, they had the children get baskets to gather money from the congregation to support a mission project as they went up front to listen to the children's story. A young boy came up to us a bit after the others, and we had nothing for him. He responded by extending his hand and wishing us a happy sabbath.

This reminded me of my own boyhood in the church in Illinois. At the end of the church service, I would make my way to the end of our pew at the center aisle and shake the hands of people leaving the sanctuary. Good times.