Monday, February 6, 2012


I've mentioned before, I'm from a family of praying women. And, the lives of each family member has certainly been blessed by the consistency of those prayers.

Many of my memories of Grandma Korta center around her prayers. We were expected to participate in (lengthy and on your knees) family devotions when we visited. First there would be a Bible passage read aloud, and then Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Vivian, and I would move to our knees for prayers--each in-turn.

And, if Grandma was nowhere to be seen, you could almost always find her in her closet, on her knees in front of the vanity bench pictured above. I inherited it, by request, back in the early 1970s and eventually had friends reupholster it in a beautiful fabric, which I still love about 20 years later.

I'm a praying mother and grandmother. I don't think I have the attention span that my fore-mothers had, but I do try to remember each of my loved ones in prayer most days. There is power in prayer. I've the stories to prove it.