Three small brothers sat under the West Texas sky one night long ago.
They marveled at the stars and wondered where they would be in the year 2000.
The youngest brother, a Methodist minister, told the story of his two older brothers that same year, as the family sat at his oldest brother’s gravesite.
Their father was a baker in a small town. Their mother took care of the children and the house. They had no way of knowing that their oldest would become a well-respected physician in a large city or that their middle son would become an attorney with almost perfect recall.
The third became a Methodist minister who was loved by his congregation and his family.
In the year 2000, I was among a small group of family members who sat at the gravesite of the oldest. It is a moment in time that I will never forget.
I love West Texas. I loved their stories. I loved their family.
They were the salt, the seasoning, and the preservative.
They marveled at the stars and wondered where they would be in the year 2000.
The youngest brother, a Methodist minister, told the story of his two older brothers that same year, as the family sat at his oldest brother’s gravesite.
Their father was a baker in a small town. Their mother took care of the children and the house. They had no way of knowing that their oldest would become a well-respected physician in a large city or that their middle son would become an attorney with almost perfect recall.
The third became a Methodist minister who was loved by his congregation and his family.
In the year 2000, I was among a small group of family members who sat at the gravesite of the oldest. It is a moment in time that I will never forget.
I love West Texas. I loved their stories. I loved their family.
They were the salt, the seasoning, and the preservative.