Well of course it’s getting ugly out there

"But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day."

That's the verse I thought of when reading your wonderful essay. I could not remember the reference, but thank goodness for a good Concordance (in my mother's old, yellow and worn leather-covered Bible).

As you wrote of memories during "the war," which most of us of a "certain age" think of WWII, I remember being a very small child in church with my parents on Sunday evening services. I would lay my head down upon my mother's lap and go fast asleep -- probably with my Mary Janes resting on one of my dad's legs.

After the service my father would pick me up and carry me out, my head resting on his shoulder. I would pretend to still be sleeping and heard other grown-ups talk about how sweet I was -- stuff that grown-ups said for some reason. I was too sleepy, though, to open my eyes, and besides, I did not want to spoil the moment.

I would not take anything for those memories or many others in those days. They're now known to be turbulent days, but I knew very little of that. All I knew was that I was safe.

Can anyone ask for more?