“May the Lord bless you and keep you;
-My Father, adapted from Numbers 6:24-26
At the end of each sermon, my father used to speak these words from the pulpit.
When he would hit the “Amen,” there would be a pause, his voice would drop what seemed like a full octave, and he would finish in a rhythm that was always familiar, never different.
Oftentimes, Steve and I would take a break from our mischievous back pew Sunday routine, look up and mouth the words; we knew they were coming. It signaled the end of the service, there would only be one hymn left, at which time we could evaporate through the back staircase and be first in line for the potluck.
But until recently, the weight of these words, spoken week after week, had failed to become a part of me. It wasn’t until I left the church and returned that they began to take on an almost mystical meaning.
It wasn’t until I looked back that I realized I almost missed the blessing.
Posts
2 comments:
That's a great photo of your dad. But did he have you at 70? He looks nearly 95 in the photo.
Cam
i love it.
i should add a caption:
(photo not actually my father)
Post a Comment