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Holy Saturday Memories

Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church, Louisville, Kentucky

My mother’s parents lived their religion.  Every morning with their oatmeal and orange juice, they read a Bible verse and commentary.
When my grandmother woke me up, she’d say “This is a day the Lord has made. Rejoice, and be glad in it.” Even if it was raining.
People on TV who are evangelicals are too often harsh. They bellow "you have to believe 'this'."
Too often, “this” is a political platform, not the Good News of Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior.
"This" certainly wasn’t the old-time religion that shone out of my grandparents. They lived a life of integrity, blessedness, and merriment, albeit teetotalling style.

Shirlee Orth Lambert was a force of nature. She had gone to college, back in the 1920s. Not a common thing for a southern woman, but education was sacred in her family. 
To know the Lord, you had to know the Bible. Grandma studied the classics, including ancient Greek. Then she went to Appalachia to teach. That's where she met Charles Calvin Lambert, my grandfather.
My grandfather’s dad died when he was young, so Grandpa couldn’t have gone to college if he had wanted to. But how he adored my grandmother.
When dementia stole her mind, when he was the only person she recognized – when she was bedridden, staring ahead uncomprehendingly, and could barely speak – he spoke of her as if he saw the woman he met in their 20s. Beguiling. A woman who frolicked.
As long as he lived, she was looked after in their home, not a nursing home. I think of his example on those nights when my husband needs help every other hour and I doubt I can get up. But I do.

It is their love I rejoice in when I rise.

For April 16, write a curtal sonnet. This form has 11 lines. The first 10 can be long, but the last line is shorter than the others.

Author’s note: The Fourth Avenue United Methodist Church was the church my grandparents attended for over 40 years. The image is from the United Methodist website; I am not the photographer.

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