Saturday, March 11
by Ellen Lukanc
The Bible I use at home is one I received for my confirmation many years ago in 1973. It has a yellowed, creased leather front cover. The pages are thin and crinkled from a snowball fight that ended with it being dropped into a mix of winter slush. When I opened it today to the Psalm passage I found a small slip of paper with a handwritten name on it. This name was of a friend during my college years that I had not thought of in years.
I cannot recall the exact circumstances of why I felt compelled to place his name there. Had I put his name at that spot because I was upset we had ended a romantic relationship? Or was it because as a friend I was keeping him close in prayer? I reflected that many times since I had received my Bible, I have opened it to search for guidance, solace, comfort and help. A few situations have been monumental as in the loss of a beloved family member. Others, like finding my friend’s name, are lost in my memories.
My Bible is worn and the cover bent but the words inside still confirm God’s enduring promise to care for, protect, heal and love each one of us. In all things, at all times, forever in eternity.