The way God’s word changes to meet me where I am continues to amaze me. There are passages I have read many times that suddenly come alive with meaning. Sometimes the stories become so real I can hear the crowds, or smell the sea.

Lately I have taken great comfort in knowing that my mother, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers all held these same words in their hearts.

We may have all had different books,

but God’s words were there just the same as they are today.

They were the same on that little dirt road in Kentucky, the same on the farm in Southern Indiana, the same in that small town church in Boone County, the same in the sterile halls of the orphanage.

They were the same words they clung to as their children grew, as their husbands died, and as their siblings passed away one by one. They were the same words that we clung to as we grieved losing them. We grieved over their physical death and of the death of their memory to a horrible disease. We comforted each other and our children with those words and remembered the way they wrapped themselves in Your Word daily.

I think about those well-worn Bibles with the tattered edges and wonder if I will ever have the strength that flowed through those women. Then you gently remind me that their strength was Your strength and it has always surrounded me. It grows stronger the more I embrace You, but even when I falter it never grows weaker.

Their strength, Your strength, is here for my generation, just as it has been for all of the previous and will be for our daughters and granddaughters.