Grace - by Paul

Growing up we lived about three hours from my maternal grandparents, and we visited a few times a year. There are a really only a few things that I remember about my grandparent’s house. I remember that it was red brick, it had a front room with a large cabinet record player (with a hokey pokey record playing), there was cubby hole under the stairs full of grandpa’s fishing stuff (which the grandkids were forbidden from getting into, although I don’t believe it always stopped us), and there was a small picture hanging in the kitchen of an elderly man praying over his bread.

A few months ago Kristen and I were perusing the local Goodwill (one of her favorite past times), and ran into a larger print of the photo. After one of Kristen’s refinishing jobs it now hangs in our kitchen.

So, here’s to you Grandma and Grandpa Castleton; for helping us understand the need to be thankful. Happy Thanksgiving.

{Grandpa Castleton preaching on the streets}