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Several years ago I visited my mother in California, not long after my fathers passing to Heaven, and she told me to take his wonderful, slightly love-worn leather Bible home with me for my own. As his oldest child, and a lover of the Word myself, it was an honor. I must have gotten my trait of writing notes all over margins, and writing notes all over the blank spaces from Dad. It made me smile with fondness to see his handwriting all over. Not long after I had that Bible in my possession, the Lord told me to give it to my only son, (a young adult), who was my Dad’s oldest grandson. Really? I had to hold that Bible and cherish it some more, before I was able to give it away. I knew it was totally the right thing to do. Oh how my son did treasure that Bible, with his grandfather’s name on it. So I then had nothing of my Dad’s .

A little over a year ago, when my Mother passed into Heaven, I found another leather Bible with my Dad’s name on the cover in a pile of books. We siblings were choosing some personal memories to take home with us. I joyfully claimed that unknown second Bible, with all the writing and papers in it just like my Dad would do. Wow, God, you knew there were two of them. The reason I am just writing this now is because I had come home from my Mothers’ memorial services and all the family gatherings, and had tucked that precious Bible of Dad’s on a safe shelf. Prompted by the Lord to look for a particular book on that shelf this evening, I came across my precious legacy nearby. It made a great blessing to write about, and share with you.

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