FOUR GENERATIONS: On one of the final 4 Sundays of September 1968, my parents, after escorting me & my sister up the only staircase (pictured) in our church at the time to 9:45 Sunday School & then down it to the original sanctuary for 11:00 AM worship, became members of the church. They came to town to aid my dad’s recovery from bleeding ulcers caused by a stress filled job. The stay, only intended for a year & then back to Birmingham, celebrates year 56 today or one of the next 3 Sundays as dictated by the provenance of research & recollection as our church celebrated its BIG Sunday. There’s never been an attempt or a family edict to rival the Montague’s or Capulet’s in dynastic terms & there has been a recon mission or two to see how green the grass was at other Sabbath locales when our grass had some withered spots, but this place just checks all my boxes. Regardless of the peaks & troughs on the meringue of my life’s slice of pie, I’m filled & fulfilled here. This Sunday or any Sunday, that photo of my tribe of 9 could be taken. Our service began this morning with six baptisms, four in my tribe were dipped in that same cleansing pool. I know that at any time, any or all of us could get tapped to move to serve another church & I’d expect any or all of us to go. Until then, I’ll be thankful for God’s goodness to our 4 generations every Sunday, I’ll take that same staircase up every Sunday with my mom & bang that metal grate that served as 1960s safety like I did when I was 6 or 7 & hear it reverberate, not just to hear it like a mischievous 6 or 7 year old, but to hear its history, to hear it reset my week, to remind me that the same God & His goodness of September 8th or 15th or 22nd or 29th of 1968 is the same God & His goodness, today & every day…